It has not always been this way. During my freshman year in college, I would try to go to bed between nine and ten even if I didn't have an early morning class. Often this would even mean leaving a game or some other activity that my friends were doing. Janelle often teased me that I would go to bed so soon. Come to think of it, she doesn't like it when I go to bed before ten even now.
I remember reading an article at the time that talked about powerful and famous people who would only get about four hours of sleep a night. Our newly elected President Clinton was one of them; Margaret Thatcher was another. I remember thinking that so little sleep would kill me. Now I understand it a little better.
Time is slipping away from me. On days that I teach evening classes at Baker (which this semester is on Mondays and Tuesdays), I wake up around 5 am, go to Lincoln to teach, get back home around 4:30, leave for Baker around 5:30, get home again around 10:00 (this semester has been a bit earlier here), do something to decompile (usually a 45 minute show), write my blog (a new addition), get ready for the next day (lunch and pre-chosen clothes), and get to bed around eleven. Considering that I'm often doubling up (my decompiling often goes hand-in-hand with grading), there really aren't places for me to cut, except sleep. Even days without Baker are often filled to the brim with one thing or another.
I know that this is affecting me. I can feel my memory slipping away. I've gotten shakier lately, and my right eye likes to start twitching on its own. I am often tired and run down, making my temper flair when even the slightest extra task is asked of me. I know that this is taking years off of my life, but I don't see another way around it.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get to bed.