The last of the late nights

Sure, it has happened again. I should wake up at fifteen past eight, unless I Can Dream About You doesn't trigger memories of minutes spent writing a letter than almost didn't get sent anyway. I turn on the radio and grab whatever is on the table for breakfast. I read the newspaper and try to absorb whatever happened from the past twenty-four hours, and perhaps some analysis, too. Then, it's off to mop the floors, unless I get too comfy.

I usually turn on the television before ten, only to hear Walter Cronkite say, "this is the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric," not that I actually need to get my news from an American broadcaster since I can watch Anderson Cooper 360 at the same time, or the BBC any other time. Nevertheless that's how I get my load of American politics, which gets me hooked lately, especially if it's time to count the results of the Democratic primaries. Barack Obama's the presumptive nominee, golly.

I still watch cartoons - probably the only thing that keeps me sane - although I think Yo Gabba Gabba! is mind-numbing. (Why I watch pre-school shows sometimes, I can't explain.) I know Lizette doesn't like SpongeBob SquarePants, but I watch it whenever I feel like it, partly because I've seen almost all the episodes, and can even tell if they're showing an old one by the opening titles alone.

If basketball doesn't get in the way - it will tomorrow - I end up watching Jeopardy! because I like the feeling of not being able to answer all the questions, and the feeling of being amazed at how much the contestants know. And then, so that I can know things for myself, I watch Mythbusters immediately after, provided I've already started cooking rice and reheating lunch. If I burned it - somehow it happened yesterday - I've got some troubleshooting of my own to do. Thank heavens for watching cooking shows during my childhood.

After lunch and oral hygiene, I'd either continue watching the television, where my life would drift between The Ellen DeGeneres Show and The Price Is Right, or go to the room and listen to the radio again, trying to drift to sleep before going online, or rereading everything that I've already read.

By far things seem bolted to that. Sometimes - almost usually, in fact - I send text messages to Sam, sometimes hoping that she'll respond, especially if it involves complicatedly deep stuff. Sometimes I find myself on the phone trying to call Jalein, but it's been an elusive search lately, since it's either she's away or the phone's busy or, in one case, I dialed the wrong number twice. The online conversations are also different, to an extent, because I end up chatting to Sam anyway, unless Dexter is around or I manage to double-click another name, like Lizette's or Raisa's.

And things get out of hand at night, presumably because I'm tired to keep track of things, and I either get stuck listening to the radio again, or watching the news on television, commenting on what the authorities are up to again. Afterwards, it's usually whatever's on the telly lately, although lately I've been watching the French Open, since everybody else has been following it. Eventually, I've been watching for updates at CNN in the morning, even. And then, it's off to bed, rereading stuff again, perhaps falling asleep to Kelly and thinking about the conferences I'm missing - unless I'm being sensitive again - and that's all there is to it.

There will be a time when we have to break from routines like this. (Oh, we should break from this routine, for it's a good example of pressured-bum paradise.) Soon we'll get burnt out, we'll get lost, we'll get sick, and we'll end up dying of stuff we couldn't even comprehend. Change is a good thing, they say, but when things get so entrenched, it's sooo hard letting go. Despite the complications, there are things that we're comfortable with - painfully for some, blissfully for others - and we fall asleep at night thinking that it will never change.

Oh, but change is a train collision. It hurts, it wrecks, but sometimes, despite the deaths, it brings out something good, something we've never thought of - provided we don't have corrupt officers, or sensitively exaggerated neighbors.

It will soon come, so it's time to let go of the things that have inevitably started to slow you down. Attachment is a bad thing sometimes, especially if it doesn't really do you any good, and more especially if it's doing you a lot of good. You'll end getting stuck on things that won't always commit to you. Complacency sounds as stagnant as what it really means, or maybe exaggerated.

And perhaps, while you're at it, you can take hope that with another night spent talking to people you don't know - dodging illogical responses or the lack of it, and making sure you get enough sleep for the next day - you can wait for mornings to come and never end. Or at least, come back when you wake up.

And your responses...

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