I dug my claws into the side of the rocking chair, shifting my weight as I ascended its backside to keep from being thrown off. The cushion at the top was softer than the hard-pressed seat, and my personal favorite place to take a nap. I curled up, carefully balanced so that I wouldn’t fall back over the side, like some long dead camper falling over a cliff. When I finally was comfortable, I could feel my eyes begin to glaze over as the familiar feeling of sleep began to take hold.

Of course, naps are never that simple nowadays. Before my eyes had closed for more than a moment, the whole chair jostled. The big one had taken his seat in the middle—I didn’t understand how he could endure such a hard seat. The whole chair rocked hard, and I had to dig my nails in to keep from being flung over the side. It was clear this resting place wouldn’t do today.

So, like many days, I hopped back down onto the floor. The light thuds of my feet were beginning to sound a lot like those of my older brothers’. The wood planks below me were cool and smooth, and made for great walking. No unexpected catches, like in the shag carpet I was on my way over to. The couch over there was much softer than the remaining chairs, however, and was well worth the trek when the rocking chair was taken.

Two quick jumps and I was up on the arm rest. They put the best padding in the arm rest—it was firm, but not pillowy like the cushions, although it could be more precarious. I could feel the weight of fatigue hit me like a brick, and my eyes closed once again—but not a moment later I heard the terrifying sound of the back door opening, followed swiftly by the eager approach of beasts. They were like titans—they ran on four legs, panting heavily wherever they ran. Luckily the gold one missed me, instead running down the hall to my left after who knows what.

Unfortunately, the darker one was more attentive, and stopped hard in his tracks, then turning to look directly in my eyes. His eyes were a cold, dead black, like a silent murderer out slaughtering in the middle of the night. We shared that brief moment while he realized that I was not another piece of the furniture, where the whole world seems to grow quiet. The big one’s rising became so slow, it was as if he was covered in glue.

But that moment broke quickly, and he and I went from stone still to bolting in a heart beat. There was an open window behind me, just a few feet away, with a high screen. The beast was much faster than me, and it was all I could do to launch myself from the head of the couch to the screen. As I flew through the air, I heard his jaws clamp shut just behind me, just a few inches from my tail. The hairs on my back shivered and stood high. It felt like an eternity while I soared through the air, then dug my claws in to the little holes for support. I scrambled to get myself secured quickly; my feet sliding down before eventually they too were locked. Then I quickly ascended so that I was out of reach. I turned to look down, and saw the beast, sitting with tongue flopping over the side of his teeth. His mouth was open wide, waiting for my strength to run out, and his breaths were deep with excitement.

I thought myself a goner for a moment, as my body began to shake with fatigue, but then came the pounding footsteps of the big one. He grabbed the beast roughly by the neck, and lifted him with such vigor I thought he might tear its head clean off, but the body held tight and pretty soon the beast had turned tail back from where he came, along with the gold one. When I was certain it was safe, I tried to climb down slowly. Halfway down, my leg slipped again, and I went crashing to the floor. I managed to get my feet beneath me at the last moment, and landed on my feet. I looked back at the couch, and felt the disdain for the potential resting place. I felt too much like a meal on a platter there now, so instead I made my way down the hall, to the third door on the right. There was a large space there, where the big one rested at night. I didn’t much care for it—to many different layers of material scattered haphazardly about—but it was soft. I found an empty corner by the window, and laid down. My eyes shut, and I finally got to drift off to sleep.



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Hello everyone,


Wow, I am not feeling very well today. I think I’m on the border of either being sick or being well enough to show up to work. But here I am typing away regardless. Being sick is one of those things where it is sometimes hard to tell whether or not its good to just lay down and recoup or to go out and do something to take your mind off of it.

My dad used to make me exercise through nearly every illness, because, for whatever reason, he thought it would help me get through anything. Which, to be fair, he was right about. In any situation where my body had a fever, exercise would help because the same process of raising the body’s temperature would occur after running for long enough. Which is brilliant. Of course, there were other illnesses that I had in which it did practically nothing to whatever sickness I had, and instead I was just miserable for several hours. I don’t recall ever feeling worse, though I did have a sickness at one point in which there was so much phlegm built up in my chest that I had trouble breathing, and when I was forced to “play through it” I ended up playing without much breath. Which was absolutely the worst.

That being said, it taught me a lot about overcoming mental blocks. It also got my in a rhythm to challenge myself even when I was feeling unwell. Of course, this does come with it’s drawbacks. For example, when I have been really sick and probably should not have done anything except for sleep, I have often gotten out of bed and done things. Today is quite possibly one of those days.

Lately, I have not been functioning too well. My mind has been tired, my eyes have been tired, and every time I get out of bed I feel light headed. And it’s partially my fault because I stay up too late sometimes, though I also have the issue that when I take naps I end up sleeping for too long, which means I either don’t take a nap and am tired all night, or take a nap and I am for sure up too late, and don’t get a full night’s sleep. Perhaps I should be trying to get to sleep earlier. But there’s so little time in the day to do it all. If I go to sleep earlier, then I lose the opportunity to experience the things I enjoy as much.

Of course, it could very much be the fact that I am not getting enough sleep nowadays and that my body has left me sick. In which case it is self-inflicted. What do you think? Let me know in the comments!


Hello everyone,


How are you all doing today? Or rather, how was everyone doing at 8:22 am when I am writing this. Yeah, that’s right, I’m not your “lazy” college student that gets up at 2:00 pm every day. Though I have done that in the past. And I am not sure how I feel about people that wake up late. In fact, the only reason I don’t wake up later is that I work in the morning, and money is pretty important to survival in this day and age.

The reality is that people function on different internal clocks at various points in their life. Why do people always say that old people go to sleep early? Probably because there is a trend toward it. I would imagine that, at some point, the human body becomes accustomed to falling asleep prior a certain time, and waking up at a certain time. As you grow older, it’s quite possible that your body reacts to the sun going down more strongly than when you are younger.

Likewise, with teenagers and young adults, the internal clock is probably different. Their brains are just more awake at night. I have no idea why that is—and it is certainly possible that this is just a cyclical thing where we don’t go to bed early, wake up late, and then suddenly we all wake up late and go to sleep early. But I don’t think it’s that simple. Perhaps I’m just different than most of my peers, but I typically go to bed at about 12:30 am to 1:00 am, and wake up at 6:45 am for work (at least, during these summer hours that is). So roughly 6 hours of sleep per night. And I am always tired in the morning. But most people call me productive and successful to some extent because of this.

Which is simply not true, right? Most of these people that are up till 3:00 or 4:00 am and sleep until 2:00 pm are simply getting up later before they do things. Sure, they probably aren’t working the same hours as a “normal” person does. But think how many people can work from home nowadays. Is it really necessary that we demonize people who stay up late and sleep in late? Isn’t that just a waste of energy?

Well, it’s probably dualistic, like most things in life. Take for example the need to become a good citizen. I know, that’s often said in context of “we are being controlled and brain washed” but being a good citizen isn’t always a bad thing. Seriously, often times being a “good citizen” simply means being a responsible human being. So it simply helps sync everyone up when we all get up at the same time. Isn’t it a pain to contact someone when you wake up at 7:00 am and they wake up at 3:00 pm? You have better things to do.

But coming back to how we are programmed to vary our wake up times, it’s a reality we live in where people wake up at various times during the day, and not because of their own decisions. So perhaps we should focus less on demonizing people for something that is, at least partially, out of their control, and begin opening up options to empower their excessive wakefulness at unusual hours.