Free Time

My current sleeping pattern is refusing to subside. Okay, I know, as a student it's perfectly normal for me to stay up late enough that I just about see the sun coming up and wake up late enough to see it disappear. But I'm not normal. Actually, on that note, what is normal? I see so many people claiming how they're not normal and how they're happier and better people for it. It's become so common that I'm invariably starting to judge such people as "normal". Except I shouldn't. There's no such thing. Every human is different and normality, in terms of one's own personality and upbringing, is subjective so please, disregard this entire opening paragraph.

-ahem-

My current sleeping pattern is refusing to subside. Okay, I know a lot of students stay up late enough to see the sun just coming up and wake up at- oh fuck it, I'll just get on with it.

Typically, throughout this academic year, I've been going to bed around 1am, allowing me to catch sleep at a reasonable hour whilst also allowing me to stay up long enough to catch endless repeats of Family Guy. Apart from those few days when I've had to attend a 9am lecture, I've generally awoken at around 9:30am - 10am at the absolute latest - to give myself time to prepare for the day ahead. However, now that assignment deadlines have all been and gone and because I am not assessed for anything under exam conditions, the amount of engagements I must attend are few and far between. In my anticipation of this time, I thought of all the wondrous things I could do with this newfound spare time. I could read books I've been meaning to all year but never had the chance. I could play long lost video games and subsequently reminisce about my childhood whilst sat looking out of a window, my elbow on the windowsill, my hand cradling my head, a short yet contented sigh and an "oh, golly" look in my eyes. I could cook and eat more healthily, paying extra care and attention to the vegetables I'm steaming in a seemingly novel fashion (put chopped veg in a sieve over a pan of boiling water and put the lid on top... actually works wonders). I could go for a walk. Where? It doesn't matter! I have free time, dammit!

Except I don't cook healthily, I don't read any of the books I've been intending to and I don't sit at a window gazing out and thinking of jolly memories past. I lie in bed and think of all the bad things that have ever happened to me, or that I've ever done to other people, or all the good things that never happened to me and question why this is, but I don't receive an answer because God, in my experience, either doesn't exist or he/she/it's been giving me the silent treatment since day one. I have free time now, and that's the problem.

I even said it earlier; I have fewer and far-betweener engagements to tend to now that I literally don't have a reason to get up. Sure, I could do all those things I wanted to, but they'd require me to get out of bed, get dressed and walk about a bit, only to end up changing again and going back to bed. Even getting an early (or at least what I'd consider "early") night doesn't help. The other day I tried going to sleep at midnight and the voices in my brain (which, incidentally, does not make me mentally insane, I'm reliably informed that many other people experience this too, that includes you. Yes, YOU! How many other you's do think I'm talking to right now?) recall all the bad things that ever happened to me, or all the bad things I've ever done to others, or all the good things that never hap- okay, I'm just lazily repeating myself a lot in this now. Anyway, the point is I tried going to sleep at midnight and was still awake around 3:30am. The knock-on effect of this is that I don't end up waking until at least 1pm and even then I lie there allowing my brain-noises to pick up where they left off for another hour and a half. By then enough time has passed for me to feel like there's nothing left to do with the day.

Case in point: yesterday. I finally managed to vacate the bed and move to the computer chair (all the while wrapped in a double-sized duvet) at around 1:30pm and spent what I believed to be a short amount of time watching video clips on YouTube and, for some reason, reading the Wikitravel page on the United Kingdom, just to see how British people are portrayed to foreigners wishing to vacation over here. If you don't believe me that such a thing exists, look at this. Look at its size. Look at its numerous sections. Look at how tiny the scroll bar is at the side and bear in mind that while I skimmed maybe a section or four, I must've read at least 80% of the page in its entirety. When I actually looked at the clock again it was 6:30pm. By the time I'd cooked and eaten it was time for bed again, although not before animated repeats on BBC Three forced their way into my eyes and ears. Once I'd plunged the room into total blackness once again, the time read 1am; the typical time for me to curl up and let the soul-crushing reminiscence begin once more.

You know how I always hate blogs that read like diary entries? I very much loathe myself right now.