These vessels are all-too-uncomfortably fragile. Made of wood, and reinforced over time with whatever is at hand, be it more wood or metal of some sort, the waves still crash up hard against that self-same surface. Given a long enough timeline, water erodes. And slowly, it seeps through.

The ships start taking on water and sinking, while the crew frantically work to bail it. Like a sponge, you could say the boat has a saturation point where it just can't take on any more water. And nobody can tell when Neptune, son of Saturn, should see fit to exercise his control, either. One little storm, and the vessels I speak of could be run aground or driven into the reef, ending their journey, although perhaps only temporarily.

The concrete walls looming in front of me house a multitude of lecture halls, desks, chairs, and projectors, all there for the sake of teaching. Boasting gloomy architecture, the maze of stairs makes for a scene that M.C. Escher would not feel at all out-of-place in. The gloom is all too fitting, given that this is the type of place where dreams, while you can potential recognize them, can also be so quickly shattered.

As you walk calmly through those halls, you can't even begin to comprehend just what dreams each and every person you pass holds dear. They function, they live their lives, they make their daily commute, in order to come to these hallowed halls of knowledge, seeking to achieve self-actualization.

These halls give birth to ways of life, creeds, love, hope, desire.... They foster potential.

These halls serve as a meeting ground for the purpose of imparting knowledge. They serve to allow us to achieve our potential.

But most importantly, they serve beer in the student center for when you've had a really bad day.

I took a nap this afternoon, but in truth, I was deceived. It wasn't a nap.

What I'm guessing, is ol' Nap got a bit tired of me using and abusing him for my own purposes, and decided to call in his big brother, Mr. Deep Sleep. And to put it into perspective, Mr. Deep Sleep is a bad-ass. Think along the lines of Mr. Deep-in-a-shark-infested-lagoon Sleep, and you're starting to get an idea.

So what ensued, was a vigorous struggle, punches flying, various insults made with various mothers' targetted, and so on. And it subsequently ended with ol' Nap smacking me over the back of the head with a sack full of pennies. Boom. Lights out. And to add humiliation to defeat, they tied me up, drugged me, and kidnapped me, using Mr. Deep Sleep's GMC van to drive me around.

It's 2am. I've been awake for a grand total of an hour. If I have one piece of advice to give to anyone right now, it's that sustained sleep deprivation will fuck you up. Guaranteed.

Thank goodness for that sleep.