Another day in the life

Note: Text inside square brackets denotes actual physical actions and my take on stuff is demarcated by paranthesis. The rest of the text is what goes on inside my head.

[Ta-na-na Na-na-na Na-Na-Naa... alarm goes off]... who's making these horrible eardrum-busting, eyeball-bleeding sounds at this ungodly hour... wait a bleedin' minute... I know this sound and it means it is no longer some ungodly hour... alarm on my mobile phone. Where is it? That's right, at the foot of my bed. [I turn it off]... it's only the first of 3 alarms... I can sleep till the third one goes off. Argghhh, that annoying cock crows again from across the room... my second alarm... it's already 5 minutes since the first one went off?? Turn it off and lay down again... this time I'll be woken up by pleasant music... I'll get some more shuteye before that and I'll feel better about waking up.

Comfortably numb...what a way to start the day (rhyme entirely unintended)... why don't I lie in bed and listen to the whole song? Western blot... incubation... class? ... 8:58 TRAX? ... shower... breakfast? ... are there any bagels left? Will there be time to dry my hair after I shower? Damn! Get up!

[I jump out of bed... look at the clock that was howling like a banshee a few minutes ago... turn towards the laptop.] No... there's no time for this... [I go through my morning ablutions.] (This marks the completion of the process of my waking up... once I'm through this I won't be able to sleep until the wee hours of the next morning.) [I shower... rummage through my wardrobe as I dry my 'flowing black mane' (which is still a tangled mass of bad hair at this point) and pick a decent (at least I think so) set of clothing] Did I wear these yesterday? Maybe the day before? What the hell, there's no time to look for something else. Must make that next TRAX. [As I put on my clothes, I also pick my laptop. Still, drying my hair. If time permits, I swing by the kitchen for a cup of milk or juice and a bagel. Tie my hair up in a neat pony. I walk/run to the TRAX stop.]

[Once I get to the lab, my day pretty much consists of coffee, work, looking at my reef tank (my own lil' vacation in a box), more coffee, work, music, some more coffee, work, maybe some food... you get the idea.]

(Evenings are a kaleidoscope of movies, music, food (cooking and eating) and a spot of reading. By the time my evening ends, the first hours of the next day are already upon me and the next day begins.)

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: [narrating] "Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday night. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?"

But who needs mind-numbing reasons or an-escape-from-reality-reserved-for-pathetic-losers (heroin) when you can have the exctiting and much healthier life of a graduate student? Yes, a grad student's life... a psychedelic cocktail of intellectual peregrinations(research), penury, independence, procrastination... a drab gray existence punctuated by eclectic animated interludes in brillitant colour. Yes, my life's a trip and I love it!