Calm under pressure

Like some sort of defense mechanism - stress-activated narcolepsy. Shame it won't kick in during the night, when I'm actually supposed to be asleep.

It's Monday again? What? How did that happen?

Thing is, the higher up you get in just about any work situation, the more you have to appear energised. Positive. Oh, sure, there are many people in charge who storm around being angry and shouty but those people are dicks and it never works for long. A pissed-off worker has never been a good worker.

Far better that you can inspire people.

In fact, that works in both directions. You can do better by inspiring those above you too. Radiating positive energy, without just being one of those goofy grinning types who look like they have lost all sense of reality. It's an important skill. In normal times, a skill that can help you rise. In recession times, a skill that can help you just survive.

But I'm finding it hard right now. Of course, sitting here listeing to Pink Floyd's 'The Final Cut' isn't going to help. That has got to be one of the most depressing albums ever. Have you noticed that the amount of positive uplifting albums pale in comparison with the amount of miserable depressing albums?

"It's the only connection they feel."

What happens when you sleep

It's amazing how much difference broken sleep can make to a life. I don't even know exactly what sleep does but, whatever it is, it's important.

I've often thought that sleep provides a shutdown so you won't notice the switch.

You know, the switch.

Truth is, our bodies are only designed to last around 16 hours. Anything after that and we start to deteriorate rapidly, go out of warranty and could find ourselves clapping out at any moment. So our bodies need constant replacement.

We go to sleep. Shut down.

Someone creeps in to our room during the night and removes our body. They replace it with a replica. The next day's model. As our memories are transferred, so it can be done quickly, they go in all at once and it's pretty jumbled. Sometimes we remember little snippets of that process. We call those memories dreams.

Of course, this process is pretty cool during childhood because they add tweaks and improvements to each new model. But, eventually, the growth must stop.

And that's where the problems start.

You see, at that point, their job becomes simply to supply the same model. They make a copy. But it's like tracing a picture. There are very subtle differences. Barely noticable. But if you trace the newly traced drawing, then trace that and so on, the drawing moves further and further away from the original.

It deteriorates.

We know that as ageing.

But with broken sleep, the copy is either rushed to get in place before you wake up, or the switch is abandoned altogether and you end up spending another day in a body that just wasn't designed to last that long.

And that's what happens when you sleep.

The need for sleep

Today is a little better than yesterday.

I need sleep. A lot of it. All at once.

The lack of sleep is now inhibiting my ability to conduct everyday life. One way or another, that can't continue.

On the plus side, I can now do an excellent zombie impression with little to no effort. Not the rubbish fast zombies. Proper zombies. Those fast zombies aren't even zombies and totally miss the point. I've heard people justify them by saying - well, they're like zombies only more scary because they're fast and that makes them more dangerous.

Following that logic, they should be given guns. Then they'd be even more dangerous. Or nukes. Think how much more scary that would be. Hard to get more dangerous than that. Or even a death ray, like Godzilla. Actually, they could be bigger than skyscrapers too. Then, even their footsteps would be dangerous.

Totally misses the point.

It's the slow, shambling creeping death that defines them. Their strength in numbers, not the individual. A huge part of the suspense of a good zombie movie comes precisely from people being lulled into a false sense of security because they are slow. Mocking them. Letting their guard down.

That's why they work. That's what makes them creepy.

And when the zombie apocalypse comes (and it will), you people who think they're only scary if they can run or have death rays will be the first to fall.

Rough morning

I like me. I am wonderful. I am a great human being. I have boundless energy.

Okay, these affirmations are bullshit. It would take a lot more than a little self-delusion to make me feel energised on a Monday morning.

I have this idea for a CD actually. Or mp3s, whatever. I'm actually reluctant to post it because I think it's such a bloody good idea that it could make my fortune and, if I post it here, I'm going to lose out. But you see...

I am a man of action.

That's a total lie so it's not like I'm ever going to do anything with this idea so I may as well post it here. It relates to my proposed self-help book, sort of. It's a CD of affirmations. Okay, so that's nothing new. But these affirmations wouldn't be either sleazy salesmen affirmations or New Age hippie affirmations. These affirmations... would rock.

And (and this is the genius, the thing that would make my fortune) they would be set to loud 80s Journey guitar solos. Screaming guitars and kick ass affirmations:

I rock! I rock so goddam hard! I'm a badass motherfucker!

And so on.

I'd call it Journey's Affirmations For Kick-Assery of the Soul. If anyone from Journey happens to pass by my blog, get in touch and we'll totally do this. We'll be millionaires! Well, you probably are anyway, but I'll be one too, hopefully.

We are so tired

I say 'we' because 'I' just wouldn't get across how tired we are. It's not just me as in my consciousness that I think of as 'me'.

Every limb is tired. Every muscle. Every organ. Every cell. Every molecule. Every atom. Every quark and whatever goes beyond that.

Every part of me is tired. We... are tired.

That wouldn't be as much of a big deal if I could just stay in a dark room and wrap myself up in a blanket. But, like most people who are likely also tired, I have to go out into the world and pretend I am okay. Pretend I'm in control. Pretend that I care about so many petty little pointless things. Just so I can earn a living.

Well, I say earn a living but that would be as misleading as saying just 'I' am tired. I made the mistake of opening a bank statement at the weekend. I don't earn money. I lose money. At a rather ferocious rate. I'm likely to find myself up to my ass in debt very quickly.

Quicker actually, now that I have assumed the foetal position and my ass is so close to the ground.

The basics of economics

Perhaps my inability to sleep at home is my brain's way of educating me on the economics of the situation. You see, at home, I don't get paid to sleep. In fact, it eats into my free time.

Whereas, at work, I'm paid, and I'm here anyway so it's not like I can get any of my own stuff done. And they would frown upon me bringing in a games console and hooking it up at my desk. So I've got nothing to lose by sleeping at my desk and everything to gain.

I don't know why I didn't see this before. It seems so obvious now.

Grey Dreams

I'm still getting those chest pains. I think I may have had a mild heart attack yesterday. It wasn't pleasant. I can't help feeling the reassurance that I'm too young or not fat enough or don't smoke or drink heavily won't actually prevent cardiac arrest. Diagnosis by statistics alone doesn't seem quite right to me. If I die in the next day or two, I want my headstone to read, "I told you I was having a heart attack".

I wonder if it's stress-related?

I was playing SimCity Creator on the DS on the bus this morning. My city was hit with an earthquake. 79 buildings destroyed. Just as I managed to rebuild the last one, another hit and I lost 72 more. That was a waste of a bus trip. But it seemed quite fitting for some reason.

I wonder just who is making the most money out of this whole bank crash malarky? You want a sound investment? Go to the bookies and put a large sum of money on this crash turning out to be completely orchestrated. It's a long-term investment of course but one I think will pay off nicely.

Where's my castle?

They say a man's home is his castle.

I once took that to mean it was a place you could find sanctuary. A place to rest. A place that is your own and where you are royalty.

What it actually means is that it's the place you're going to have to put up with politics, people banging down your drawbridge, chucking rocks at your towers, a constant stream of traders, rubbish court musicians and the never-ending babble of the court jester.

Being King is not all it's cracked up to be.

There must be some kind of way out of here

I would pay good money for a holiday like this. I am so tired...

Monday again. Next week is Cartoon Forum week. When I have to go somewhere or do something, I go through some very predictable stages every time and, right now, I'm at the stage where I'd really rather not go anywhere and would far rather be at home. I spent so many years digging this rut I'm in that it seems a shame to leave it, even temporarily. And going somewhere, especially where airports are involved, seems so much like hard work.

It's going to be a busy week at work preparing for this trip, which is always difficult when it's something you don't care a damn about.

This week, there is a piece of news I'm waiting for on a project that could make or break it. That, I care about. I also care about getting a little pitch document ready which I'm going to keep with me at the Forum in case I get talking to anyone interesting, broadcasters or whoever.

I had a dream last night that I had made a My Medicated Cartoon Life graphic novel based on me getting a show off the ground. It was funny but had waaaay too many pages. It would have taken me something like 5 years to actually make in reality. Oh and the fact that I could sum up my life in a small leaflet would probably mean it would be full of padding. Padding isn't good.

Oh, I was informed in the comments that my blog is being reposted on another blog (and, sure enough, it is), so if you're not reading this at www.mymedicatedcartoonlife.com or mymedicatedlife.blogspot.com/ then why not pop over to one of those and read it at the source?

Hope everyone has a good week. Or at least survives the week. Oh, and a huge congrats to Jeaux Janovsky who is having his Box Assassin Hitman published in Giant Robot magazine. There is something about Jeaux's work I adore and this is great news so pop over to his blog and send him a congratulations.

Early morning scenes of carnage

Sleep has never really been my thing. It takes me a long time to fall asleep and then, well, this is what the morning looks like. I wake usually a few times a night and it's clear I did not have a calm, relaxing night.

It is like a battle took place around, and in, my bed.