Sleep is for the week

I excepted that running a blog would be quite easy, and if not easy, then quite manageable. I viewed it as an activity that could find its way or squeeze in between my already packed schedule. I could take out time to edit photos, I could take out time to select the ones that have to be uploaded and I could take out time to write a post about them. It seemed all right in my head. But then again, life is waiting on the other side of the court with a racket, ready to smash your head whenever you feel everything is going to be fine.

This past month has been a whirlwind of just work, work and more work. The days just consisted of tests and submissions making each day seem like an hour, and each week like a day. Among all this monotonous routine, I slept less. Very less. (I referred to myself as a walking talking zombie). Sleep became like this unobtainable treasure, hiding in a tall tower with a fire breathing dragon guarding it. It was the only thing worth looking forward to everyday and somehow it seemed fitting that I write a post on it.

I pictured myself snuggling in with three layers of thick blankets, sleeping peacefully against the sounds of the rains lashing out onto the windows. But in reality, I would walk around my house asking each of my roommates, who among them is going to pull an all nighter, and give me some company for the night. Then the work starts, and some music that works as a background noise. The pencils and setsquares get to work, with my fingers marking each point with accuracy and drawing out each line with the proper intensity. Half way through the night I can hear my bed whispering to me, slowly and softly in my ear, like a lover, asking me to leave everything that I am doing and come back to it. I consider it for half a minute, but then imagine the pile of work left to finish and decide against it. And then its back to work again.

Architecture may consist of a lot of sleepless nights, but bragging about it is more common than not sleeping itself. You boast about it to your friends while drinking your third cup of tea in that hour, you boast about it to your teachers and parents to translate it into a sign of hard work and earnestness. It becomes a competition; who can go the longest without sleeping or who went to bed last the previous night. 

For me though being able to sleep or rest is a sign of being on track. Everything is in order and the way its supposed to be. So I write this post after a night of partying and a twelve hour long sleep, to cast away sleep from this blog, and more into my hectic life.