Good to go

This week has been something else. Internal, external stuff. I've been busy with everything. But I've gotten so much done.

Last night, the night before, and I believe even the night before that, I was so tired that I must have drifted out of consciousness without falling asleep; it felt like I was drunk without a thing having passed my lips (except for Fresca). It's just been an off week, but it's almost over. I don't know if I've been more relieved.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm thinking of having lunch with my ex/good friend, who I don't refer to as an ex except when emphasizing that it's possible for one to be good friends with someone they used to have rampant sex with (there was a relationship somewhere in there, as well). What a shame and waste of invested time, to throw someone away because of a break-up, merely because of the world's trend in doing so. Last time I heard, break-ups aren't synonymous with death, so unless the other person was so misguided that they took on the role of asshole without realization, I don't have a verifiable reason to give someone up just because a dynamic has changed.

Not much to report other than I'm doing pretty well in school, and the writing is going well. And I'm welcoming sleep with open arms, like, right now. The rest of the weekend will be busy - my squid's last in San Clemente - but I'm looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday. Maybe we'll even get to sleep in Sunday. Oh God, just the thought of sleep is right up there with food and all other physical satiations. I never understood it until now - but I'm always saying that about something.