Tuesday, March 10, 2009

WHAT 22 IS THE END: YOU ARE FATIGUED FROM THE RESULTING TIME CHANGE DAYLIGHT SAVING BRINGS


This past Saturday night I attempted to watch a new horror movie I had purchased. It was the perfect cleanse to a crazy two weeks of non-stop, ridiculous, mind-numbing work and I was very excited to see it, as I had heard great things. As the clock approached midnight, the sounds of screaming and murder and highly-evolved-plant-life-massacring-humans sang me to a deep sleep. I woke up on my couch at 4AM, dazed and startled: I wasn't asleep for that long. I sidled my way across the living room floor into my bedroom and continued on sleeping.

I woke up the next morning at 9AM and knew something felt funny. I had a busy Sunday and only realized at "2:30PM" that my clock was wrong: I was a victim of Daylight Saving Time. That night, I got home, ate dinner, and hung out with my family, but could not muster the will power to stay awake beyond--I don't know--10PM.

For the past three days, I've just been an absolute wreck from Daylight Saving Time. Recently, the slightest of changes in my sleeping patters eff me up. I can't stay awake for more than three hours without getting groggy. I frequently zone out and forget what work needs to be done: I am an absolute waste on many different levels from fucked up sleep.

At 22 years old, this is a problem. Every time I decide to watch the Colbert Report--I'm a mess. Whenever I go out and have some drinks with friends, costing me a midnight hour, I'll be a vegetable the next day. If I am at work beyond 9PM (which happens a lot)--I have to go home and lay my head on a pillow and sleep for many, many hours

Daylight Saving Time's beginning has disrupted my internal clock. And, like many adults, I have been introduced to a despicable culture of "tired adults," who find a bond in common misfortunes. Daylight Saving Time hits this nail on the head, reinforcing that--after a certain age--there is an unstated agreement that "Oh, something sucks in life: let us find a means to express our malcontent!" And, let me be the first to say: this malcontent is expressed in the most mature and progressive of ways.

Daylights Saving Time has helped usher in post-college life and has made me proud to be 22. Who wants to be lively, anyway?

1 comment:

  1. First of all, 22 was a lovely age for me.

    Secondly, I was just searching for images on Daylight Savings Time for the blog I am in the process of writing right now when I linked to this post...I guess the point I'm getting to is that I feel your pain.

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