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Saturday, August 9, 2003

When I'm tired, I make mistakes. It's probably a bigger mistake to let myself get so tired in the first place, because it leads to things like repeatedly tapping the wrong key while entering spreadsheet data. I've known how to type since seventh grade, but when I'm tired sometimes I can't find Home Row on the keyboard, and asdfjkl; becomes xcvbuiop or tqwe7890. From there, things can only get worse.

When I'm tired, small mistakes and petty problems become great dramatic tragedies. I can break a pencil lead or drop a piece of paper, and a pathetic display of hand-wringing and teeth-gnashing will break out. (Actually, I don't wring my hands or gnash my teeth, not literally. But I do whine and cry a lot. When I'm tired.)

I also tend to bang my knee on the corner of the desk more often when I'm tired.

When I'm tired, I don't make the best decisions. Instead of working all day on the report I need to have done by Monday morning, I spent the morning on something else. It was something equally important in the long run but much less time-sensitive in the short run.

Why did I do this? I don't know, but I was too tired to think about the consequences (which are that I now have to work after I get home from San Francisco tomorrow, because I can't, just can't, work any later tonight, especially since I have to get up early Sunday morning to catch the bus for the City.)

When I'm tired, I'm not the best driver in town. Oh, I'm still better than almost everyone else, but when I'm tired I tend to forget that driving on Sebastopol Road is not a contest (and even if I win, there isn't any prize). I also forget to suppress my natural tendency to want to be in front of everybody else on the road (except that idiot riding my rear bumper, who's the one guy I don't want to be in front of).

You might want to stay away from me when I'm tired. This warning is for your own good. If I try to hold a conversation with someone when I'm tired, there are two possible outcomes. I might shut down, hearing only half of what is being said and not responding with much more than an occasional grunt. Or I might snap back, with no provocation other than— well, other than that I'm tired. That unleashes a cycle of regret and repercussion better left stashed in my cubby with the other useless emotions, like worry and guilt.

5 August 2003

More clouds, but these are in the west.

One other thing I can't seem to do well when I'm tired, and this is especially true lately, is sleep. No matter how tired I get, sleep doesn't come any easier. I usually use weekend mornings to make up for a week of lost sleep, but I got up early this morning to work, and I have to get up early again tomorrow. It could be a rough week ahead, because (and I'm going out on a very short limb here) I think I might be a little tired.

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The touring version of "Chicago" is in San Francisco for the next two weeks, and I'll be seeing it tomorrow. The role of Billy Flynn is played by Kevin Richardson of the Backstreet Boys, who played the same role on Broadway last year. More importantly, we're having lunch at Four Seasons. That should be worth getting up early for.

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: Different
"Walking ahead of us was a spectacularly tall fellow wearing a fluorescent blue shirt decorated with images of tropical fish, and sporting a blond frosted mullet. I mean, this was the kind of person who attracts attention without even trying. I couldn't tell if he knew he was interesting looking or not."

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I can't make up the fire
The way that she could
I spend all my days
In the search for dry wood