OK, so it's more of a study - whatever. How about scrutinized self-awareness? Mindless personification? I will now anthropomorphize my sleep schedule by considering, and even referring to it as a living breathing thing.
Erratic, slightly - chaotic, perhaps - unorthodox, certainly - but I prefer to refer to it simply as Mars Time, (as Mars' day is about 40 minutes longer than Earth's - and I usually end up stayin up later, n sleepin in later, etc, thereby manifesting into a somewhat rotating schedule). Potentially, at the end of this experiment, I may have sufficient evidence that I am in fact a native of the Red Planet.
But the main focus, and original inspiration for goin to all this trouble, was to get me to jam more. At the beginning of this experiment I was slightly depressed that I had consistently forgotten to practice my instruments - therefore, whenever I would pick one up, I would be significantly less skilled than I was prepared to be. The ultimate goal being, to become once again proficient enough to pursue my major life's purpose, recording.
As long as I was goin to all this trouble, I also decided to include some information about what I have for dinner (in case it turns out that has something to do with anything) - and I even considered including the weather conditions and phase of the moon for each day, starting with the past week, but found that such records are not as easy to locate as one may be inclined to think (or halfheartedly believe), and eventually (upon the thought of sifting through the last week's as yet unrecycled newspapers) thought better of it. After all, what does the weather have to do with the lifestyle of someone who never leaves his cave - or even some increasingly hypothetical hippie who imagines himself an original denizen of a dustier rustier albeit neighboring world?
Red planning notwithstanding, several weeks or so into this (a watched spot sleeps sideways), I decided to acquire yet more ambition on lunar research prcedures and thus finally chart the phases of the moon, to see if there were any potential correllation - n lo n behold, turns out I'm more aligned with our silvery satellite than any distant cousin of the ground in which we will resign. Yep, when the moon is full, n high at night, I'm sleepin during the day - n likewise when the moon is new, if not slightly blue, n overhead with the sun, I shall most likely be awake at the same time as pretty much everyone - everyone else in me current time zone, that is.
This amazing discovery only lends further credence to the theory (and I could even be submitted as a control in such proceedings) that there is some magnetic cosmological gravitational radiation situation affecting us all, regarding the cold harted orb that rules the night. Luna designs the tides, custom fit to her whimsical will, as any plankton knows all full too well - but we so-called thinking life forms have blood also, and it may also be occasionally, apparently, induced to boil. Not that I'm a werewolf or anything (or even a communist), but having nothing else better to do with me day, to keep me on a status quo schedule - I seem to tend to naturally gravitate to the nearest world. And that's OK with me, unless it's not OK with you - in which case I would direct you to me research, and you would thus hafta let your cooless decide our fate.
In the interests of science, I have continued my chronological efforts n determined that, while it may appear at first to be pacing the moon, we seem to be orbiting at slightly different speeds - kinda like a fellow traveler on the freeway, ye may chance periferally catch each other groovin to the same tune on the radio, but by the end of the tune a they're a mile back, a mere speck in yer rear-view mirror. Not that this is a natural phenomenon, or anything - I often augment my schedule to be sure I'm awake to catch me fave must sees.
For those fellow perfectionists out there, taking the trouble n time to actually read this, and substantially worried that my findings may be skewed due to the noticeable lack of total information: for the record (and sake of control factors), as far as my other meals go, lunch is almost completely nonexistent (unless I skip dinner), and breakfast each day consists of orange juice, granola bar, coffee and cigarettes (in that order, although extremely rarely I may have a bowl of Cheerios). Dinner, goes without saying, I religiously have a full glass of whole milk - it's in my contract. I also tend to drink about a liter of Coke a day, and the occasional Mountain Dew. Once in a great while I will have a shot or two of Jack Daniels. These situations will be notated to see if it has any affect on my said sleeping patterns and schedule.
Statistics fans will be overjoyed to learn that I may one day decide to additionally chronicle how much I smoke, bathe, have sex, etc. Suffice it to say, I smoke upwards of half a pack a day (but rarely more than a single pack in one solar showing), I shower daily (well, almost - but I do feel absolutely horrible if I happen to miss a single day under the waterfall) - and I do somehow manage to get laid about 2-3 times a week.
Aside from the rather dubious, if not pointless (or falsely modest), experimentations presented herein, please feel free to examine the source code of this webpage to derive my subtly ingenious methods n apparent delighted mastery of html tables. Also, don't forget to scam the style sheet - but if you don't know how to find that, I'm not gonna tellya - don'cha hate it when people say things like that?
OK. Now. On to the madness. Over a single week, I seem to be averaging approximately 17 hours awake time per day, and a little over 8 hours of sleep. Yes, I know this doesn't add up to 24 - more like 25, that's why it stretches out. One week I'll be awake the same time you are, and the next I'm a nocturnal vampire - keeping pace with some remote and obscure time zone, somewhere on the other side of the planet, where fair maidens dance naked under the light of tropical stars.
Ahem. So the way I figure it, I only actually live about 330 to 350 of my newfangled stretched out days in a year, which makes me, statistically, only about 90 to 95% as old as most other people my own age. Add to this my recent common propensity to divide my age in half, due to the Martian year being twice as long as Earth's, and I'm practically a little kid again. Lookit all the pretty colors.
I do so love puzzles. I guess that's why I became a musician, and a back room weekend scientist - but then, every day is a weekend for me, innit? The quest to discover how things work, or fit together, or create something complex and yet aesthetic - you should see the pictures I hang on my wall.
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Awake |
Sleep |
Electric |
Acoustic |
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Doze |
Nap |
Bass |
Record |
In the key above, the multi-chromatically enhanced will find references that may be confusing. "Sleep" and "Awake" are pretty much self-explanatory - if you need help with that, this entire dissertation may confuddle you (and perhaps make you drowsy - or, conversely, force you bolt upright and feeling the need for brisk exercise). "Doze" means I am in bed, but am not sleeping - not so much lying awake, as I am not yet, or no longer, completely unconscious - or even on the sofa in front of the TV pretending I have nothing to do more vital than to rest me bleary eyes awhile. Thus, "Nap" is usually on the couch in front of a television - most commonly, I will wake up, find my routine, feel suddenly sleepy, and then find myself teleported in time several odd hours into the future. This does not mean that I am a lazy hippie slacker - there are far too many bits of evidence already pointing to that. What it does mean is that different functions of my body are in disagreement over whether or not it is time to get up. I have discussed this with the ruling factions and dissenting parties, and they are at a loss with regards to anything that pertains to reconciliation.
The colors I chose, especially for the days, are my own subliminal choice - and perhaps as pointless to discuss any further as anything else drivin into so much depth so far. Far be it for me to let a silly thing like that stop me from rambling on endlessly. And I could go on ever further along these lines, but you know where it ends - it doesn't.
