Lack of sleep causes columns like this

I can’t sleep.
I am very tired, but sleep continues to elude me, like… like a very elusive thing.
I am so tired I can’t even come up with metaphors and similes.
I’ve reached that point in the night where I don’t even blink anymore. I’m so tired I’m starting to lose muscle control in my eyes, so the screen will occasionally blur out of focus and I can’r rell if I’m hiyying the right kets or not.
I’m starting to go cross-eyed, too. I’m looking at the screen in stereo.
I don’t know what happened tonight. Curfew rolled around and I was getting ready for bed. I made sure my air conditioner and heater and whatnot were adjusted, I peeled back my covers, I played a little beddy-bye music, I lay/lie/layed/lied/led down, and promptly stayed awake for 4 hours before just surrendering to my fate of a sleepless night and getting out of bed anyway.
By the way, I live in a private double in Grad, so I’ve got two air-conditioner-slash-heaters and two sinks. What I’m really tempted to do one day is turn one A/C on full blast cold, the other heater on full blast hot, turn on both of the sinks, and watch a hurricane form in my room.
I’m to that point where I’ve realized that the last thing I need is sleep. I’ve got chapel and classes in the morning, and at this point I’d be lucky if I woke up for supper.
The world is so weird this early in the morning. The Late Shows are over, the Late Late shows are over, and the Late Late Late Shows (also known as infomercials) are starting to look pretty good.
Tina Yothers (Jennifer Keaton from “Family Ties”) and David Hasselhoff (proof that Hollywood is run by trained seals) are on channel 11 promoting some CD collection that I’m sure was prophesied against in the book of Daniel. A few clicks up the knob, Americo “Tuffy” Questell (Posse Member #1 from episode #1.6 – “The Ultimatum” – of “The $treet”) is doing his daisy-picking best to convince me to buy a treadmill that not only will help me lose weight, but will also help me earn $50,000 monthly.
So as I sit glued to the tube, eating my graham crackers and Cheese Wiz with cinnamon Altoid chasers, unblinking, relentlessly awake, I’ve realized something very important: my eyeballs are now beginning to atrophy.
Why can’t I just go to sleep? Huh? Would that be too much to ask? My bed is ready, willing, and able to support my 8-hour habit, but I’m being some kind of depriving jerk and not letting my mattresses fulfill their simple purpose on this earth.
I just got out of my third, or maybe fourth, shower of the night. It’s not that I’m taking these showers to try to get to sleep or to try to keep myself awake or whatever, it’s just that when I’m as tired as I am now, I start to forget things I’ve done or said, and tend to repeat myself. In fact, I’ve already written this article twice.
My day is so shot. I know what’s going to happen. I’m going to be sitting in class, taking notes as best I can, and then I’ll blink for about 15 minutes. My head will suddenly pop up with all the alertness of a scared rabbit, and I’ll stay like that for about 10 minutes. Then I’ll feel my eyes refusing to stay open. I’ll see my notes becoming more and more illegible as I lose control over my hand. I’ll see Shetland ponies clip-clopping across my arm, pulling gingerbread wagons loaded with Jim Morrison look-alikes reading Marx’s Communist Manifesto. At that point, I’ll become faintly aware that something is not as it should be, but will be distracted by a harsh ringing noise somewhere off in the distance, only to snap back to awakened reality and notice that the classroom is now filled with an entirely different set of people and a different professor.
I just got out of my third, or maybe fourth, shower of the night. It’s not that I’m taking these showers to try to get to sleep or to try to keep myself awake or whatever, it’s just that when I’m as tired as I am now, I start to forget things I’ve done or said, and tend to repeat myself. In fact, I’ve already written this article twice.
I am so very, very tired. I can already see the night sky beginning to blue with the coming of the dawn. I can see the world coming to life again, and I’m just about dead. If it weren’t for the impending doom of chapel and classes, I might just fall asleep at the keybbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Aaron Rushton is the humor columnist for The Bison, and everything he says should be taken with a very large and very sarcastic grain of salt. He can be reached at (501)305-8453, or by e-mailing AaronRushton@hotmail.com. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear.