Reference books. Graphics design. Layouts, meetings, calculators, coffeeshops. Purple papers-- inky black-- out of my hands, for it's over. Now the next task. But I have a few days.

First, a conversation.

"You seem to be naturally disciplined," a prof said.

I laughed. "Nope. Discipline is the most difficult thing for me" I explained. "I just got a head start in working it out."

A few hours later, my feet thumped rhythmically on the dark loam of the rail trail. Over the last month, I had drained every ounce of effort from my brain, greedily devouring sugars and other chemicals to stay awake, to stay productive.

Now, my brain was exhausted, and my body stocked with days of excess energy. In the past, trying to sleep under these circumstances became nightmarish; my brain unthinkably dull and my body unable to sleep.

Out on the trail, my feet thumped steadily. In the silence, birds sang, and the oaks, poplars, birch, and underbrush placed me in a musical tunnel of living celebrations. I bet my friends are watching TV. But this is so refreshing. For the first time in weeks, a pervasive grin rose from somewhere inside my soul.

My mind started to wake up. I did some complex multiplication inside my head, grateful to think about something other than words and literature.

Then it happened. I remembered.

I remembered the first time I counted to 1000. I'll post the story tomorrow.