I had an amusing realization about myself the other day. I'm prone to bad moods - not quite depression but rather, as my friend J. might put it, a case of "the blues." This generally entails an unusually negative look at my life, where it's headed, what I've done, coupled with memories of stupid arguments I've had with people over the years that get me fired up for a new fight of some kind. Either or both of these do, of course, inevitably lead to a firm conviction in the meaningless of life, in all of the varieties this conviction can take. The fact that this happens does bother me sometimes, especially when I don't have anything real to be worrying or upset about (having everything I need and much of what I want in life), but on the whole I don't think it's a terrible thing because it does always pass. When I get in these moods I also turn very self-reflective, as I start questioning and thinking about every aspect of my life – for better or worse. And this self-reflection has allowed me to put a positive spin on my bad moods by explaining them away as nothing more than the unfortunate product of having the superior mind of an intellectual who is exceptionally aware of the world's ills.

But I had a rather humbling moment when I realized these moods are not the product of a uniquely perceptive mind, but the simple fact that I get crabby when I'm tired. The same physiological condition that makes babies cry when they're awoken from a nap, or that makes my dog snap at me when she hasn't had enough sleep, is what leads to moments of pseudo-intellectualism and a feeling of detachment from the world. I find this funny, but the more I think about it, it does also make sense - it's probably better that sleep deprivation leads to introspection instead of either crying or trying to bite people. I rarely do either of those.