Sleep Comes Down...NOT
Last night I started getting a sore throat. It was in the midst of settling some last-minute details with the software we deployed yesterday and at first I thought it was just because I was talking a lot on the phone. Then, rather rapidly, quite precipitously, a cold sweat and stuffed nose. Bleah.
So all day today, I experienced what Sam would call "robitripping", or the other-brainly feeling when you've consumed too much dextromethorphan. There's an accelerated feel to your own thoughts, but there's also a sensory distance. The swimming sensation can be distracting, unless you're diligent.
If you're successful in that, the acceleration can be handy. I got a lot of work done today, because my job is almost entirely a mental thing. It's now 5:05 am; I woke up at 1:30 am, unable to fall back asleep. I've watched a couple of TiVo'd episodes of The West Wing, read a few blogs and fixed a significant memory leak in some software I'm working on.
When the sensory distance re-establishes itself, it's like taking a car out of gear, except that you can't also take your foot off the gas. The engine revs and the car becomes something vibrating, yet adrift.
The life I live becomes that life that is being lived as we speak, as I think. I see how different it is from even 18 months ago. I see how big a part of life work has become. That Sam is even in my life at all is a wonder; that he's my boyfriend, my partner, my significant other...well, that's something so profound to me that it's simple a force of nature, a fact of living. The constant feeling of falling flares when I think about him, when I think about us, and I am a giddy thing.
I am reminded, in my detachment, that I am still not back in the habit of being a boyfriend, of living with a partner. I am reminded, in my accelerated brain state, that I am blessed, both here inside my head, and out there, in that life I've got goin' on with that man I've got goin' on.