Just got home from school and I’m going straight into writing. This feels good. This feels…. right.

This morning was, bizarrely enough, Film Theory again. Yup, the same class that I had in the afternoon on Friday. So technically, I had it twice in a row. Strange.

But I am loving the class, so I am not going to complain. Film clips and analysis – I am so there. And today we sort-of-snuck into the Main Theatre, which has a way, way bigger screen. Not as big as a real movie theater’s screen, of course, but definitely big enough to give you the movie theatre feel because there are far fewer seats and you are much closer to the screen.

Man I loved it. Movies are a whole new experience there. We watched the whole “Luke, I am your father!” bit from Empire Strikes Back and it was so good it was practically a religious experience. I want to watch every movie there from now on. I am seriously thinking of sneaking in during lunch tomorrow and eating my lunch there with like, The Lion King playing.

We watched the ending of the Lion King too. For me that was a religious experience. It’s my favorite movie of all time and to see it like that filled me with profound emotion. I pity the sort of people who can’t enjoy the magnificence and spiritual beauty of The Lion King because it’s “just a cartoon” and “cartoons are for kids”.

I have received genuine spiritual healing from that movie. It’s that good.

Sometimes, this song makes me feel almost normal and acceptable and part of life, as opposed to the being a dead frostbitten gangrenous toe on the body public.

God I am hard on myself. But it’s the truth of how I feel. I am slowly getting over it.

I am warming up inside. Thawing out. Spring comes very, very slowly to this heart of mine, but every bit of thawing is a victory over the long dark winter of my depression.

In the afternoon, we had Story with Rodger (not Roger, as previously reported), and once more I found it very hard to stay awake. That’s no surprise, though, because I had one of my thankfully rare bouts of total insomnia last night and as a result I have seriously not slept a wink in the last 24 hours.

Tried to get to sleep at a nice decent (though still somewhat insane) 2 am, and got nowhere. The sleeping pills had zero effect. So eventually I just got up and played Hex for a while, then had breakfast and headed off to school.

As is the norm when this happens, it’s like my brain is frozen in a block of ice and while this is not at all painful (I feel great, actually), I will not be able to sleep until it melts, and at that point, I presume, I will sleep the sleep of the ancients.

Better make sure I eat first. Don’t need to have a blood sugar crash in my sleep. That never ends well. Nothing like waking up feeling like you are dying and can’t remember what that means.

Anyhow, the Writing Theatre where we have like half our classes seems to make me sleepy. I am guessing it doesn’t have the greatest ventilation. This theory is borne out by the fact that I found it way, way easier after I took the initiative (yay me!) and opened the window, and slipped a blackboard eraser in there to keep it open a couple of inches.

But that’s not the only factor at play. That pleasant baritone of the prof’s seems to have a soothing effect on me that makes me want to curl up for naptime. You barely have to glance at the rock to see all the daddy issues hiding under it on that one.

Truth be told, I had a distinct lack of supportive, competent, protective male voices in my early life. Couple that with my sweet but somewhat chilly mother and old-school pre-DSM-IV psychiatrists would be nodding knowingly before laying a finger aside their noses and saying “Inadequate father figure, remote and distant mother…. no wonder he’s gay!”.

Of course, those same schmucks (in my head, they are all Jewish, and I refuse to apologize for that) who said homosexuality came from a mother being too close to her boy. And the stereotype of the gay mama’s boy seems to indicate there is at least a sliver of truth to that idea.

Heck, I would have been a total mama’s boy if my mother had wanted anything of me. Or wanted me.

One little oopsy daisy today : ended up forgetting both tablet and headphones in the Bear Pit, aka Theatre 2, aka the place where I have Film Theory class. I had to pick them up after class. And for a while, I was beating myself up for being such a basket case, as per usual, but once I recovered the items, I was able to make some peace with it.

The truth is, that’s life for me. I do my best, but I will always be the wacky wizard whose amazing abilities are belied by the fact that he’s a total spaz and criminally absentminded. I will probably never be the smoothly organized and altogether together dude I want to be. I will always be this way, this is who I am, and I am just going to have to learn to accept that.

You take the bad with the good. I’m a complex person full of contradictions. It’s kind of a hobby.

I can only hope to attract those who find my spazziness and confusion endearing, and it makes them want to help and protect me like the dizzy toddler I am. At least until I can afford to hire an assistant to handle all that stuff and hopefully keep me from looking like an idiot.

I’m not an idiot. I’m a genius. Billions of people would love to have my abilities.

I’m a genius.

We tend to be a tad overspecialized.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.