Outgrowing Harry Potter

I just woke up from a deep slumber. Weird because, you know, I enjoyed the slumber. I think that I'm not even allowed to damn sleep because of the deadlines I have to meet this week. And its kinda cool to sleep late, you know. Dark circles with a minimum circumference of probably 4cm surrounding your eyes and flies accompanying you everywhere you go is definitely the way to go.

With this slumber, I came up with these reasons so as to explain why I slept at the wrong time again:

- I'm unusually lethargic yesterday. Oh screw it, I'm always lethargic. That fact is already unusual on its own.
- Making a powerpoint presentation for yesterday's thesis defense took a lot of time, thus making me sleep late. (This is so not true. I slept at like, 1 AM only.)
- I have to sleep because the world hates me so much, it is urging me to go to the nearest local store and buy cigarettes. (HA. This is very much true - if I'm slashing wrists and wearing black all the time and fixing my hair in a superlatively bizarre way, that is.)
- That sleep serves as our prize for finally putting a damn period to the overly-long sentence the thesis saga have made through the past couple of months of my senior year.
- Harry Potter sucked.

You know what? I actually think that the latter is really the reason why I slept on the wrong time. See, as I can remember, me and my brothers were watching the fifth installment of Harry Potter on dvd last night. And then just suddenly, I felt that my eyes are getting a lot heavier every damn minute because the stupid sandman keeps on pouring his specialty over it. In these cases, I don't really want to blame the poor sandman because, well, it's not really his fault if you look at it.

It's Harry Potter. I so knew it.

Christ, this is the 5th movie I've slept through this week, and the third time I slept in the middle part of a Harry Potter movie. That statement alone would just want to make me ask myself if something's wrong with me. I've been a Harry Potter fan since that faithful day my dad gave me my first Harry Potter book, which is indeed The Sorcerer's Stone. He owed me fifty friggin' pesos and he payed it off by a fucking book. At first I cursed my dad for doing so, because at those early times, I was not used to reading thick books (Well duh. I was only a 3rd grader at that time. I mean, reading Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew and them Hardy Boys is already too much for my age.). And probably because I'm very much in love with money when I was young. But as I forced myself to read the book, I learned to love it, to feel it, and to value it.

But now, it is very much obvious that I'm already outgrowing it. I know this is not much of an issue, because Harry Potter's just a book. Well, I don't know. This is the first book actually that I'm starting to outgrow, Dr. Seuss be so damned.

I hope this is a sign of a maturity. I was never ever able to watch the middle part of the fifth installment.

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