My alarm clock is set to 6:25 am every day. A backup alarm for Julien, since his phone’s alarm clock has a Decision function installed: it decides whether it feels like ringing or not.
At around 10 or 11am I finally manage to struggle into a vertical position, though somewhat slumped, and make my way towards the computer. I don’t eat breakfast, because Breakfast is for Champions, and since I am the one hobbling behind the rest of the runners I have no need for it. I’ve been a night person ever since college: I’m used to watching dawn break, I’m used to watching shadows change, I’m used to my energy bar slowing down at 2 am, only to pick up again at 4 am. I especially love Friday nights, because I know that the next morning my alarm clock will not ring, and I look forward to waking up with someone beside me. Getting up from bed is much easier when there are two of you.
I don’t own a television set but the last movie I saw that I really, really liked was a film called Match Point, directed by Woody Allen, which makes you think hard about whether you’d prefer being lucky over good.
I’m not a fan of food. When I was younger I was allergic to almost everything, but even though that’s been taken care of, I’m still wary when trying new stuff: for me, Chinese food is the way to go. What I can’t stand, though, is tarama, which is a Greek appetizer dip made of fish eggs. And it’s pink. Pink!
After seeing the Nada Surf concert a few weeks back I’ve been listening to their latest cd incessantly (The Weight Is A Gift).
When I used to smoke (dear god… happy days…) I never really felt bored, because smoking always gave me the impression that I was “doing” something. Boredom now leads me to open Flash and go through Actionscript (cause I’m a geek like that). Or make websites. Or postcards. Postcards that I write and address to friends, but never send.
…Which leads me to one of the things about myself that I despise the most: I write, and never send. I start, and never finish. I hit the ball, but never follow through. Yet this only happens with “personal” projects: my own site, for example, or my own paintings. There is something terribly wrong with this.
My best childhood memory was creating cities out of broken clay pots and stones with my cousins, strategically placing our green toy soldiers in and around the city, then running around it, pretending we were airplane bombers, throwing stones at the soldiers until the city was completely annihilated. And finding the whole game funny. I think I have a destructive nature?
I have had numerous jobs since graduating college, and all were arts/graphics/web related. Let’s say I was always an overworked underpaid overachiever.
When I was young I wanted to be an archaeologist. I remember driving home from the cinema after seeing Indiana Jones. I remember sticking my head out of the window, trying to figure out the best way to convince my parents to get me a whip and a hat…
I also remember feeling that I could make dreams come true, that I could unearth secrets, that I would discover things which were hidden under layers of dust. I remember thinking that the Universe was nothing but a puzzle, and that I could solve it if only I had more time, and if only I could skip a day of school….
…and regarding the chicken or the egg coming first, they were both zapped into the earth by the aliens at the same time. I mean, really. You didn’t know?
(Voila Makis! Finally answered your tag! Whew.)