2004-04-27 - 11:08 PM

8 hours a day, since Saturday... Well technically, 9 then 7 then 8 then 9... It averages out, though. As long as my eyelids work and I'm not moving the mouse cursor stupidly back and forth over the wrong method-name, well, then I'm not done coding for the day yet.

There are no endpoints when it's 66 percent of your grade. The endpoint is when the server goes offline and you're not allowed to work on it anymore. That's when you're done. Then and then only.

3 tests this week, too. And classes don't end until a week from today.

It used to be "God, get me through finals week." Now it's "God, just get me TO finals week. I can take it from there." If there is a God. I've always believed, never hurts to ask. I figure the non-believers have a special ring. He doesn't hear from them as often. Except, well, finals week.

Last night I attempted hanging out with people again, after hardcore burnout. Because it was simple. "I'm going to try cooking. It's just going to be me, Doug, Nikki, and my sister," he said. "A bottle of red wine, some smirnoff twists, all the soda you want, something on TV."

This was after I'd finished off my night of brainbusting at Zachery's pizza with 2 slices 2 inches tall each (I'm serious) and about a pint of guinness. My goal for the night was to not get drunk, because there's no way I could function with a depressed hangover. I'd be dead before I hit the ground, so to speak.

So I went over, and I didn't really eat, just sipped coke and talked a little and smiled when I felt like I was supposed to. It was nice, like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Not being at the light, mind you. Just seeing one.

At some point I started to doze while scratching Meagan's back. My head rested softly against the wall while my free hand traced circles around her shoulders, and she was half asleep so I didn't think she'd notice me passing out. My arm would keep going, like a lizard tail twitching after being seperated from it's master. So I dozed, and a minute or so I heard a hushed giggle, and woke up to see Eddie and Nikki and Meagan looking at me and smiling. "Alex... You getting tired?"

A minute later I was climbing into a car, Meagan was taking me home. Eddie asked how much longer I'd be doing this. I glanced at my watch. "49 hours," I frowned. "and 17 minutes. Give or take a minute." Oh lord, I sighed as I realized, I'd started doing countdowns again.

He nodded, said goodbye, started walking back toward the house. Before he disappeared he turned around.

"Hey Alex," he called, looking me in the eye through the darkness. "Etan e epitas."

I nodded, we air-pounded, and Meagan and I were off. She tried to make conversation, she mentioned something about feeling depressed lately. It's really jacked up when you're feeling low and someone acts like their life is so much worse, so I kept my mouth shut. And she mumbled, and I felt marginally bad for her, but mostly selfish.

I was so tired. So tired of losing sleep and stumbling off into the night while people gave eachother worried looks at the Alex, the crying clown that wasn't laughing on the outside anymore. So tired of fighting.

It's not that I hate code. I love it. I love creating stuff. I love using C and C# and C++ and java and icon and prolog and ml, twisting and creating universes and smacking memory addresses into line like redheaded step children. It's that I have downswings. Programming and downswings are like, well, booze and guns. They're not horrible as a result of incompatibility. On the contrary, they're horrible because they perfectly complement eachother. A will and a way.

I'm still tired. But I have 25 hours to go, and a couple tests after that. Then all I have left is finals, and it's all uphill from there.

ASS.

-Alex

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