There are certain things about the lifestyle of a college student which simply don't appeal to me, while others very much so. Case in point: sleeping. I want lots of it. I really enjoy it. I feel bad without it. Yet somehow Biola University insists that I miss out on this cherished past-time of relaxation, most likely because I've spent more time doing it than reading the Bible.
Last night was a sleepless one as I helped out my girlfriend Beth set up her art show at the Biola art gallery. It was the first all-nighter I've pulled to not feature a non-stop 'bout of playing Tekken and a steady torrent of Coca-Cola with Pop-rocks, which is to say I am no longer in middle school.
When I first arrived at Biola for lunch with Beth I was properly dressed for a day of painting and hard labor by wearing clothes I don't care for. This outfit included my capris, which are more like short pants used only in the case of massive flooding, along with my orange shirt, which is tailored for obese children.
By that afternoon I had quelled by appetite for dinner by swallowing mouthfuls of asbestos which conveniently fell from the ceiling as I mounted Beth's art-work. While this was an effective treatment against my fear of heights, my numerous encounters with spiders only served to reinforce a whole host of other phobias.
Although I may be a hip college student who has been known to appreciate the band Of Montreal, in many ways I'm like the elderly. I enjoy eating dinner before five, getting to bed early, watching Columbo, shaking my fist while yelling "you no good hooligans!" and frequently wish I had access to a Hoveround. So when 9 o'clock rolled by and I realized I was editing audio with Beth and had not yet been properly fed, I began to grow grouchy.
By midnight my abilities at problem solving were already beginning to fade. I tried repeatedly, and failed, to fix the lighting in the art gallery while trying to keep my hands from burning on the hot lanterns. A few hours later I was demonstrated the proper solution to this dilemma by another art student who proceeded to finish my task in a matter of minutes. Defeated, I slid to the floor and managed to sit on a hot glue gun.
By four in the morning I realized there would be no time to return to my apartment to sleep before returning back to campus for work. I was in for the long haul.
After an hour my over-sized capris were the most attractive piece of attire I had ever worn and I swore never to take them off.
At 5 o'clock Beth told me she had the music from "Relient K" stuck in her head. After mishearing her, I assumed she said the music from "The Lion King." We then proceeded to have an entire conversation in which she spoke of the band while I made frequent confusing references to Mufasa and Elton John's musical score.
the lead singer of Relient K
After repeatedly painting the same wall I discovered there was such a thing as a 6 o'clock in the morning, and that the sun goes "up" in the sky.
By 8:30 Beth's show was complete. I walked out of her art gallery with a feeling of accomplishment, which was accompanied by the feeling of coldness around my ankles. With the realization that I would have to wear a pair of stained flood pants to the office I hung my head in mourning for all the lost hours of sleep I sacrificed. Was it worth it? Yes. Did I do it? Most definitely. Now if you'll excuse me I have to pass out on this keyboard. g3oq49wve[340gvj;n0og[;aerbtnirykj