Well, here I sit once again wishing I had the ability to turn off the switch in my brain. You know what I mean... the thoughts that repeat over and over. Like 'I have to remember to get milk.' 'I have to remember to get milk.'... Repeating like a broken record for HOURS. This just leads me to a gnawing desire to shoot the thoughts out of my head like shooting the ducks in the game Duck Hunt. Being unable to sleep is just the precursor to living in hell.

I am convinced that the extent to which the human brain goes in order to keep the mind awake is nothing short of running a physical 100 mile race in 10 seconds. The one disadvantage is that instead of getting a killer body from being in the sort of physical shape it would take to run that quickly, I instead am blessed with a pair of black bags under my eyes. As each day with less and less sleep passes the set of black bags on my face become accentuated by deep creases and puffy red swollen eyeballs. Then the mind starts to slip. Suddenly I am sitting in traffic and thinking 'How the HELL do I get to work? What road am I on? Did someone come along last night and erase the roads I normally take?' When in reality, it is the same predictable path I have always taken, which means I have just slipped into sub-level brain power.

These are the times in which I really hate David Hasselhoff for making me want a Kit car. That curly haired bastard has made me, and I am sure I am not alone, want some impossible dream... A car that you don't even have to drive. If I could sleep on the way to work, I would seriously have considered jobs hundreds of miles away. I could seriously live where ever I wanted. Like, live in the middle of the mountains and drive 100 miles one way to work. The whole time I could sleep, make some coffee, eat a beef jerky, shave my legs, and hell even being drunk wouldn't matter. Of course I am sure the car would be bitching at me the whole time '(Insert robotic voice) Please use the barf bags in the glove box and opt not to vomit on the leather. Thank you. The Car.' Then, me being me, I would most likely get belligerent and throw liquor into the fuse box and be stuck on the highway with the car screaming '(again insert voice of robot) LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! GET THE HELL OUT OF ME! YOU NEED TO BE CRUSHED TO DEATH YOU STUPID HUMAN!' Well that at least is what I think would happen if my car was yelling at me and I was loaded up on the hootch. I fear I would have this terrible overwhelming desire to destroy it for attempting to seem more intelligent than me.

I suppose this is a direct indication that I really should never actually own a car that can talk or drive itself. I had apparently never thought this all the way through. Whew. Thank God I haven't been able to sleep yet or I may just have purchased the first car of it's kind based solely on the dream. Had it not been for the laundry list of activities I have to remember for tomorrow repeating in my head for the last 45 minutes I may never have sat here and thought this out. I feel so much better now that I have realized that if technology starts to take away my control I am going to want to prove a point of weakness and flaw in it's ideal. I have also realized... I need some motherhonkin' sleep before I start ripping apart more futuristic fantasies. I think I am done now. Maybe...

Smell ya later readers and thanks for perusing my insanity.

Learn more about this author, Staci Cool-Ellis.
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