Something about plans and mice and men

I've been having trouble sleeping. Sometimes at night. Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes both. But my will to lie in bed is strong, so there I remain regardless.

Last night, after Johnny Blaze and Colem and Luisa left, I took to my lying. And I lay. And lay. And lay. And then---epiphany!

Now, on the front porch, I lay on my stomach, scrawling down a list of names. Yes! I would make a list! Of writers, whose works I wished I had read, but alack, I hadn't. The plan was taking shape.

The plan is to e-mail a few select professors---still in town, conveniently---with this list, along with a request that they help me sort through thorny questions and ideas and other works I should check out, etc. (It's a syllabus of sorts, for the post-undergrad me.) I'll read and write (to the profs, to friends, to myself), and then, I'll apply to grad schools with a more-solid footing.

See? Genius! I'm smart still. Says so right up there.

Bonus points: when you stay up late drinking Puh-BeeR and scratching at pieces of paper, you wake up too late to go to the gym, and avoid this sort of wankery. If only the roomie would take a few lessons from me . . .