Routine Booking Procedure. Move Along.

I either started at the beginning of this year or the end of the last, but I've been reading before bed every night and it's honestly one of the smartest decisions I've ever made; for a couple of reasons:

First of all, as an English student, but also as an adult, I struggle on a daily basis to find the time to read 'for fun' and I know I'm not alone in that annoying guilty feeling you get when you know you haven't been reading as much as you want to and you feel bad for doing yourself such a disservice.

Second of all, it's been going around the internet for a long while that you should avoid screens, specifically LED light, before going to bed. Supposedly this light suppresses some chemical or something that makes you tired, so you it's harder to get to sleep coming straight off of a computer screen and/or you don't get the best rest that you could. But no! Stop right there! This is hearsay! Don't trust what's going around on the internet! Be a responsible individual! That's right, guys- let's hit the literature.

*Funky 80's Montage Music*

The literature agrees! I read a few studies and they all seemed to concur that blue light suppresses the production of melatonin, which makes you tired. I'll reference a couple of the articles I read at the bottom of the post if you want to check them out. So there you have it! My second reason was sound. The blue light coming off of your computer, phone, and I would imagine handheld gaming devices is bad news for sleep cycles.

I don't think reading before bed will make a huge difference, but I think I enjoy it even if it isn't helping me sleep. I just like spending time with these cool cats-

I like to have a couple of options when I snuggle under the covers. Mostly I'm reading Don Quixote, but for those nights when all you want is Shakespeare, I have William Shakespeare's Star Wars to provide my fix. Occasionally I'm in a weird mood and I just want to read something really simple, so I like to keep a kind of 'dumb' book ready. Right now my stupid book is shockingly not Star Wars but A Princess of Mars on my Kobo. Oh, Edgar Rice Boroughs. Finally, because it's the end of the semester and sometimes I go to bed panicking about how much work I have to do, I keep a 'work book' next to my bed so that I can go to sleep researching if I need to. Right now I'm working on an essay about The Time Machine, so I'm reading the critical essays in this edition I borrowed off of a friend. Normally I wouldn't read things for classes before bed (the idea is not to think about school) but sometimes it can't be helped.

I also keep a mechanical pencil by my bed because academia has ruined me and I can't read without making notes in the margins anymore...

The moral of the story is, if you're not reading as much as you'd like to be, try giving it a go before bed! Some nights I can barely make it through one page before I'm off to snooze-land, but others I'm up for ages just reading. I even found, once I get really into a book, that I've started to go to bed sooner and earlier so that I can read longer before going to sleep. I don't know if its helping me get to sleep faster or get a better sleep than if I jumped off the computer and under the covers, but I do know that I'm finally finding the time for books I have been waiting years to pick off the shelf.

REFERENCES:
http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2869.2005.00463.x/full

http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v497/n7450_supp/full/497S13a.html?goback=.gde_3084791_member_244253435

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1389945711001651

Young Student Seeks The Creation of Accent Walls

I want a desk! I want a desk!

Does anyone else experience this lamenting struggle upon returning home from school? The September that I came to Uni my parents moved from Trinidad to Tobago, and in the process got rid of my bedroom. That sounds kind of horrible when I put it that way. It really wasn't a jumping for joy at getting rid of the last kid kind of thing (I hope), it was just something we'd been talking about and my Dad's work and all the rest of that life stuff. I sleep in the guest bedroom now.

Okay never mind it is horrible.

My brothers live in an apartment together,  so they have rooms to call their own, they have lovely, expansive desks and even desk chairs. I have a suitcase. I love my suitcase, but it's driving me!

The problem is that I live on my computer, and therefore I live at my desk. I do my work there, I write there, I have my fun there. When it isn't there I have to wander the house for a wall plug and play MMOs on the floor. Technically, my old desk from highschool is down here, in storage along with some of my belongings while another much larger chunk is in Ottawa and another much smaller chunk is in Guelph and Ronnie is somewhere between all of these places in a land called Frustration. I may or may not be sick of my transient lifestyle right now.

Which is weird! I love being on the go! I love living out of a suitcase and heading off to who knows where at the turn of a dime, but I have come to the conclusion that a home port, no matter how expensive and awkward it may seem, is really a necessary part of life. So I think that's my problem. The boy's apartment isn't home, but Tobago isn't really home anymore, either. At least, it's not as much home as it used to be. I'm only around for a few months of the year anyway. So where is home? Where is my desk? Guelph especially isn't home right now, Guelph is where I am really and truly homeless (to save on tears let's change the topic). I had always imagined that out of university I would keep this life up as best I could, and try to keep as mobile as I can, but now I want a pad. I want a crib. I want a fucking desk. When I get out of here I want to go to wherever it is that I decide I want to go after my undergrad, and I want to rent a place. I want to nest like nobody has nested before. Independence, ahoy! I'm coming after ye.

This post deals entirely with my own feelings and love of sailor slang; it has nothing whatsoever to do with my recent enjoyment of interior design blogs. Nothing at all!

Three Strikes and We're Out

As of this September, I am an only child.

It doesn't really sound too surprising that though I've known this day would come since forever, it never really clicked. I couldn't even imagine life when all of my siblings entered the brave new world that is higher education. As a little shout out to my fellow youngests, I think that being the last to leave the nest is one of the harder burdens life places on us. A family separated, even on the nicest of terms (like university) is like the leftover scraps from a Sunday roast. Those left behind after the feast huddle together in shared little containers since they don't need the big plate anymore. It's not completely over, they can still be reheated and reunited in the microwave, but it just doesn't taste the same. No matter how close it is you still spend most of your time in the refrigerator.

It's an awkward comparison when I think about it too literaly (sounds like some post-apocalyptic survivor story - screw the matrix, we're really leftovers in the fridge), but right now I feel like the scraggly strips of roast someone left behind on their plate.

In my experience the parents always cry when they drop the first born and second born and so on off at the campus, or worse (and in my case) the airport. It's the younger siblings job to look on proudly, with a smile that says 'Good job! You finally made it!' The parents will always have a harder time than the siblings. I've never been alone to deal with the parental aftermath of saying goodbye before. I came home from school and my parents were sitting around, saying nothing. I didn't figure out why until I said something and discovered the terrible echo in the house.

Last weekend we moved me into my second brothers nicer, brighter, and bigger room. I still turn the wrong way at the top of the stairs, but I'm slowly adjusting. It doesn't look like my brothers room anymore, but my ownership of it feels weirdly temporary. I suppose it is; next September my mother gets to cry her last baby goodbye. In some ways I see this as a good thing. In most ways I see this as a good thing. Other times I don't want to think about what it'll be like for my parents, that boundless pride mixed with overwhelming sadness, and dusting off another empty room every once in a while... Progress is progress, however, and growing up is impossible without the crucial 'moving on' phase. Still, I wonder how they'll fight the echo when I'm not there to be loud.

We spend a lot more time together now, I think. We watch shows (V, currently). We invite people over for dinner. We don't play cards anymore (something that was once a nightly ritual for my family). Euchre is a four person game.

It's not all doom and gloom; like I said, we hit the microwave every now and then with phone calls and the wonders of Skype. But there's an awful lot of fridge time... Then again, it's only September, and the perks of being an only child (the disappearance of the want/need barrier) are a nice comfort.

As a side, I give you a view from my new bedroom window. It looks far more impressive in real life. Still, only in Trinidad, eh?