I don't really sleep. Not anymore.
I'm irrationally, albeit mildly, ticked off at Wentworth Miller.
I've a backlog of stories and stalled projects --Mammon 10, Happy Pasay Feet (working title) among others.
I've a small backlog of post-class work too.
I'm somewhat touchy and irritable because people think that just because I don't sleep I'm fair game for errands and work that shouldn't be assigned to me.
Still I'm not angry. I've been so busy that my standard witch's brew of emotions is being drained away as I workworkworkworkworkworkworkwork. No, it's not good. Just because it looks normal to everyone else doesn't mean it's good. But at least I'm lucid, and at least I'm functioning.
Hey, that's what it's all about, right?
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