No Disciple

I thought I would call it power, short for willpower. Or discipline, maybe self-mastery. When my roommates would ask, "How do you stay up like that?" I would say "Discipline." And they would stand back in awe of my prowness in the uber-man sleep schedule. But none of those words fit. I thought briefly today on the ideal balance of word choice, the affect of rhythm and cadence in a piece; spacey sorts of things I never detailed well enough to transcribe. And on the Internet of all places! For shame! And none of those words fit. I do not feel discipline, for if I did I certainly wouldn't be proclaiming to the Interwebs that I possess some magnificant power to stay away for prolonged periods of self-sacrifice that certainly demand their adulation! I must apologize for my frequent use of exclamation marks; they are most unseemly. I feel a need to apologize for many things tonight, including the desire to apologize. For these things and more, I am sorry.
The fact remains: none of those words fit. I like them; they are courageous words, full of boldness with a certainly manly essence not unlike commando and bravado. Many things that have the swooping doe are manly, or feel such by the sweeping declension they allow in delivery. They are the breed shouted by base jumpers and other falling men. It is well known that men that fall are the most rugged of all.
I read in my psychology text that unsymmetrical men are poor lovers, or perhaps less sought after. I prefer the later recollection. The first has been bothering me I seem to have spent too much time in front of the mirror. I feel far to womanish at this moment to use words that end in doe. My vanity tells me, perhaps erroneously, that I am not to far removed from the unnatural ideal refined at Beauty Check. I am such a girl (not literal!). If you care to, my ego could use a huggle. Hugglez are, in my mind, the ideal portmanteau, or at least the one most painfully burned into my vocabulary. For this, I will always hate the Internets. You see, my parents never huggled me as a child.
Mostly, I think, at this moment, which is brief and so often wrong, that it may be an (ever so slightly) feeling of overwhelming inadequacy with just a touch of hyperbole. Shades, you drama queen! Certainly, such words of fortitude would not describe a man in my situation, however passing it may be. But I did not expect such results, and what man can? I have done it before, and will do it again. This is, however slightly unpleasant, important and necessary as far as I have pushed my situation. But I will tell them it is discipline. What else could I say? Anything else is incriminating. I shall press on, and shirk these doubts, or as many as temporarily possible before they once again shamble upon my shoulders for a harmless ride. You're too heavy, I say wearily. They just giggle.
Mostly, I worry that I am an outlier. "Outliers make statistical analyses difficult" Harvey Motulsky.

I have a statistics quiz to take now and three weeks of assignments to power-thru in less than 11 hours. Who needs sleep? No, you're never gonna get it.

Shout-out to Melanie for posting a comment! I thought long ago people had given up reading this blithering blog.