Emerged long enough into reality to hear David saying that Kim Jong Il died. I kind of shrugged, and said, "Aww, that's sad." "Um, no, it's not sad. He was a dictator." "Yeah, but didn't he sing that 'I'm So Ronery' song in Team America? He sounded sad." For the next hour, any time David looked in my direction, he would shake his head and say, "just...wow."
Okay -- so just like bin Laden -- if someone has not directly starved, shot, stabbed or otherwise persecuted or harmed me -- I could not give two shits. If that makes me narcissistic or a terrible American, then great, because it's a lot easier to live that way. And -- just like bin Laden -- I do not celebrate the deaths of other people. If I hear that Kim Jong Il was only 69, I feel bad because that's really young, and I wonder if he could have been healthier. North Korea is unstable, yes, but it's a lot more useful to me to worry about my finances, which are also unstable. Possibly moreso than North Korea.
BUT I got some entertainment out of this, from CBS News:
North Korean legend has it that Kim was born on Mount Paektu, one of Korea's most cherished sites, in 1942, a birth heralded in the heavens by a pair of rainbows and a brilliant new star. Soviet records, however, indicate he was born in Siberia in 1941.Man, I wish I could do that. "Susie was born at the base of a volcano, which shook with the intensity of the new soul on earth, and the umbilical cord was snipped by a bolt of lightning. Angels and Stevie Wonder provided the music with fanfare trumpets adorned with flags. It was 1984."
The weird sleep schedule and the fact that every time I closed my eyes I saw my Sith Inquisitor casting Force Lightning on Republic targets caused me to get absolutely no sleep last night. Went to bed at a semi-normal hour, maybe a little late, and then rolled around uncontrollably until seven this morning. No matter how I tried to sleep, and no matter how comfy I got, I could not sleep. I rolled on my stomach. My back. My feet hanging off the side of the bed. Rolled up into a little Susie blanket burrito. My head under a pillow. Shaped like a swastika.
I could not fall asleep. Eventually, even the cats went "fuck this" and left to sleep elsewhere, raising their noses and sniffing the air, making sure I knew I was disturbing them. And when my alarm went off, I nearly cried.
Now I am going to try to survive the rest of the day -- work, grocery store for tonight's dinner, P90X, dinner, trying to sleep tonight. And Christmas shopping????? -- where do I fit this in? I haven't done any yet. Just used my entire weekend for SWTOR (not considering that a "wasted" weekend one bit...some people blow a weekend doing nothing but fishing, and no one says anything). And considering my roommate, on whom I depended quite heavily for income, just got laid off and hasn't had any responses to his resume yet, I have no idea what I'm going to get for people. I also haven't put up any of my Christmas decorations. I promised myself I would this year, but who would be around to see them? David's spending Christmas in Nashville, and my brother is hosting... I don't even think people will be at the house at all between now and after New Year's. Okay, that's depressing.