29 january 2005

It’s four in the morning and I just can’t sleep. Last nite – which is rapidly becoming the nite before last – I went out with my language class to celebrate the course’s end. We spent a few hours at an Irish pub where, unlike in most Dutch bars, the alcohol came in full-sized glasses. Of course it’s still just as strong as the alcohol that’s served in small glasses. So if you aren’t paying attention, you’ve basically had six beers when you think you’ve only had three.

By two o’clock our international crowd was fully drunk and looking for a new scene. We had heard about a bar called Casablanca with dancing and no cover. Our small staggering mob headed toward the red light district, stopping en route to ask random passers-by for directions. Casablanca turned out to be ridiculously fun: it was, in fact, a cross between a young hip bar and a Dutch karaoke venue. The music included the standard embarassing 80s karaoke faves with a smattering of Dutch hits, belted out by whichever crowd of dancers happened to be on the stage at the moment.

I got home around 4:30, in time to get five hours of sleep before a few students in my international student group arrived for the breakfast I had, during a moment of regrettably poor planning, promised to make. I had a wicked hangover and could barely muster friendly conversation; when they left I went back to sleep. I slept for much of the day. What a waste.

And now my clock is all backwards. In appeasement to my body I skipped going out tonite and have instead been working. The hours after midnite can be so productive, and since tomorrow is a Sunday I can sleep in. It would be nice to be doing this work in studio though, surrounded by a few of my red-eyed classmates. Is it possible that after only one short month, I actually miss Lawrence Hall?