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I'm not sleeping

I'm awake.

Depending on when you are reading this, that may or may not be true. Chances are, if you're reading between the hours of 7 a.m. and noon, it's not. But, for the moment, at 3:38 a.m. on Sunday night (or, more accurately, early Monday morning), I am awake.

Now, many of you are wondering why you should care. That seems like a valid point to me, considering that if I were reading The Chronicle I would rather not read about columnists' sleep schedules. I'd much prefer Duke's crippling financial status.

Well, you might care because it's currently snowing outside. If I had gone to bed at the prescribed hour for those with 9 to 5 jobs (10 p.m.-educated guess), I would have missed out on most if not all of this rare, North Carolina winter wonderland. I would have woken up in the morning and gone "huh, it snowed last night." Where's the fun in that? Life is about the journey. I think somebody told me that once.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. "Snow? Pshhh, big deal. My dream involving a candlelit dinner with Tallman Trask at the Faculty Commons was waaaaay better than that."

Well, to you people, let me submit the rest of my evening after 10 p.m. First, I went to a concert at Cat's Cradle. Believe it or not, in my four years, I had never before been to a concert at this hip little hole in the wall. I now know how sad that fact is. Aside from its impossible parking and inconspicuous location, that place is ballin'. It's the perfect intimate venue for smaller-scale artists, complete with a spacious bar in the back and old-school arcade games. Best of all, it provides the potential for close, personal contact with the main attraction. As my friends and I hurried in the door because we thought the lead act was already on, we turned around and found ourselves face-to-face with (who else?) the man we were there to see. I'm guessing that doesn't happen at the RBC Center unless Amy Winehouse smells weed in the crowd.

Upon returning home from the concert, I sat in my friends' apartment for a little while and discussed the events of the day. This proved a relaxing bit of downtime that is all too rare in the weeks before Spring Break. Uneventful, you say? Well, I bet you were sleeping. Cool.

After leaving my friends' abode, I sat down to write a very pressing paper, one that had been giving me fits all weekend. I knew that when I finally sat down to tackle the sucker I would be calm, collected and totally focused on the task at hand.

Sure enough, I was, and I immediately proceeded to turn on the television.

Oops.

Sometime between 1 and 2 a.m., I grew tired of the evening SportsCenterT on ESPNc and started flipping channels. Little did I know what the History Channelr had in store for me...

That's right, a show about the 2012 apocalypse.

Perfect. I needed a pick-me-up.

Turns out, while most people were deep in the "REM" stage of their iPod, I mean, sleep, I sat transfixed as various "scientists" told me about Mayan ball games that simulated the motion of the cosmos and recited quatrain after quatrain of Nostradamus's sage prophecy, each of which inevitably involved both "heat" and "fish." I guess that's what passes for divination these days... Trelawney is rolling in her fictional grave.

Luckily, after the History ChannelT went to commercial and I watched the entirety of College Basketball Finalc and SportsCenterr one more time, I was ready to work.

Which brings me to right now. It is now 4:16 a.m., the paper is not done and I am still awake.

Well, I guess I can take solace in the fact that, instead of wasting my night by getting my "necessary" rest, I saw a concert, learned the end of the world was imminent and wrote a column.

Heck, I don't know why I ever go to sleep in the first pla...

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Brett Aresco is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Thursday.

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