On Obsession

I went to bed thinking about dancing, and woke up to dreaming about dancing. It was one of those slow wake-ups, where you gradually realize that the dream is not reality, and it fades further away, until you are at a functional and logical point of consciousness. As the dream faded out, reality faded in, and reality was that I was hungry, and that my toe hurt. My mind is wonderfully one-track when I wake up tired, so I went downstairs and took care of my toe first. It had gotten a cut yesterday, and I could feel that it was getting infected, so I washed it with soap, and then squeezed out the infected pus junk. I marvelled at how fast an infection can occur. Then I looked to see if anyone had hydrogen peroxide, or some sort of alcohol, but nobody did, so I used nailpolish remover instead. I poured it on, dried it, then used a q-tip and swabbed the cut. Then I went to the kitchen to find food. Hey look. Eggs. So now I'm making eggs.

Wasn't that fun?

I am sore amazed, because waking up hungry definitely means that I don't eat enough. I forget to eat whenever I go dancing. Thus, I truly have found my one passion: when you love something enough that you forget to eat, then it must be something that you love deeply. O! to have found my passion earlier! But at least I've found it. I'm going to try to get an internship up here for the winter so that I can have 2 more semesters up here, and I'll be able to take more dance classes and continue to go to ballroom and swing nights and workshops. By that time I hope to have gotten good enough to take off the training wheels.

So, yeah. I shall now be sleep-deprived because I was hungry because I forgot to eat because I was dancing. Time to prepare my sunday school lesson, I suppose.

The end.