A common pastime for college students involves late night conversations about religion, politics, social issues, and personal experiences. While it physically hurt to go to sleep at 3 a.m. and awake four hours later for an 8 a.m. class, the course usually lasts just an hour and the rest of the day is open for napping and repose. As a senior at the University of Arizona, I had 8 o’ clock classes four days a week but could return to my apartment and get some sleep after an evening at the bar, after party at a friend’s house, and discussion topics about what disturbed us.
You can absolutely hold late night talks post-college — If you don’t have a full-time job. Last night, my roommate, her friend, and I made a 10 p.m. trip to IHOP for sugary, high-calorie pancakes. I ordered four chocolate chip hotcakes and Monique indulged in some CINN-A stacks.
Though tasty, the snack wasn’t energizing enough to keep me alert. When the others began chatting about religion, I was simply too exhausted to contribute much to the debate. I wish I still had the strength to add to late night talks, but the time for that has long since passed. Am I ever going to be fun again? Probably not, unless of course you factor in my
too short weekends.
Maybe someday I’ll have all-nighters again! For that to happen, I’ll probably need to return to graduate school, which is both unlikely and undesirable.
The other day, I blogged about Matt Lewis’s constructive writing advice to always save an idea for the following day. The “professor” credits Ernest Hemingway for coming up with the suggestion:
“I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.”
In other news:
Did you know Nicolas Cage is a vampire?
You can relax now: “Twilight” hottie Rob Pattinson is finally going to release an album.
Olivia Munn was the best part of atrocious rom-com, “I Don’t Know How She Does It”
Singer Pat Boone insists Obama was born in Kenya
No one wants to have red-haired babies
Kat Dennings still wears Target clothes and hand-me-downs
Sorry for the lack of blog posts this week. I’m trying to manage this whole sleep-deprivation nonsense. Whether or not I feel tired later, I’m going to complete a scathing write-up of that insufferable new movie, “I Don’t Know How She Does It,” so brace yourself for an epic complaint from my end.