I'm slowly succumbing to winter's seasonal affective disorder (S.A.D.) and unable to fall asleep not until 2:30am since Monday.
Yesterday, I found myself in a seminar on the circadian rhythm and how cognitive functions are severely impaired by lack of sleep. Needless to say, I was really sleepy during the talk. I did learn that people with schizophrenia do not have a body clock which tells them when it is time to doze off.
Incidentally, I was doing some fractal calculations on some weird but beautiful structure that came out of one of our experiments and found out that the fractal dimension of a normal person's brain is 1.4, above that number one is schizo, and below that, manic depressive. I need to look at the MRI images of my brain and figure out if I'm normal.
After high table dinner with some boffins from the CERN in Geneva, it was the usual debauchery at the common room with cheese and port. I managed to get a referral, from my Iranian friend who is doing genetics, to a very good clinic in Tehran for lasik eye surgery. I think I'm sick of wearing glasses as it impairs my mobility. I've always wanted to go to Persia especially to the ancient cities like Esfahan but everytime I try to look for flights online the search result turns negative. I now know I can go via Jordan. It's amazing that it only costs £300 for both eyes, still cheaper than getting it in Manila. Well, having eye surgery in Iran is like hitting two birds with one stone so I might just do it.
Today, I bumped into a Danish archeologist friend who just got back from a dig in Jordan. He invited me to his exhibition at England's oldest museum. I'm going to get a personal tour away from the crowds. Ah, the joys of having the right friends in the right places.
While checking my mail at the porter's lodge (damnit, why doesn't anyone send me any snail mail these days!) I bump into one of my best friends who I haven't seen in a long time. We promise to catch up on each other over high tea before she goes home to Copenhagen for the Christmas break.
Back in the lab, I get a message from another friend, currently in Sweden, who offers me her flat in Copenhagen for Christmas. I thank her but tell her the French truncated my European visa hence I am stuck in England for the break.
I stop to ponder - what are the chances of that? I bump into three Danish friends of mine who do not know each other all in one day! And to think there are only 5 million Danes. (It's hard enough meeting a pretty Filipina and there are 20 million of them!)
Back home trying to shrug off insomnia, I am watching Bertolucci's Last Tango in Paris and stop at the scene where Marlon Brando lubricates Maria Schneider's ass with butter before sodomising her. Ah, the infamous butter scene.
Incidentally, Lurpak, a Danish brand makes butter. Incidentally, the last time I saw Last Tango In Paris was when I was slumbering with a friend who just broke up with her boyfriend and wanted company because she was so depressed and was suicidal. As I always look out for my friends, I was there to make sure she didn't harm herself. This was done with some incovenience for myself as I'm used to sleeping alone on the bed and we had to squeeze into her small single bed. Ah the sacrifices one has to make for friends! I think I fell asleep quickly after watching Marlon Brando's gyrating hips. My friend could have jumped over the window or slashed her wrists and I wouldn't have known about it till 10am. For a week or so after my friend's painful break-up we'd alternate sleeping in her room and mine and every morning I woke up with a dead arm because she'd slept on it.
Thankfully, this torture of sharing single beds with her ended as she finally found someone new who swept her off her feet. The guy is Danish.
Now, what strange coincidences.......could I be the unwitting "Ugly Duckling" in a Hans Christian Andersen tale? What surprises lurk for me out there?