Class.

Two o'clock is hard for me. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, that's when my Historical-Comparative Linguistics class starts, and though I like the class, I can barely keep my eyes open. Regardless, in my impaired state some part of me still attempts to take notes. With any semblance of rational judgment out of the picture, though, whatever base element of consciousness remains gets all garbled and all it can remember about taking notes is the fact that you write down some of what people are saying to you. It loses all ability to prioritize information, but in a valiant effort to maintain control it writes down things that, though very interesting to read when I wake up, are never very informative. Things like "ppl war" and "disappeared a the (triangle)s." But today I read over my first-hour notes and felt entirely pleased with myself. Because for the first time, some of my unconscious self's notes showed up in Arabic. I wrote (get ready for this):

لا -- صعبة
(translation: no -- difficult)

I don't know what I meant. I don't know what I was supposed to be writing about. The only memory I have of this sentence is thinking something like "that's an object plural." Which is kind of comforting, I guess. If I lose the ability to focus on immediate tasks, at least I'll always remember how to decline Arabic adjectives for groups of inanimate objects.