It's getting late. The blood-red display of my alarm clock reads a daunting 11:18. I've been at this thing for the last 13 hours. Tactical plans, marketing strategies, environmental analyses... It feels like Philip Cotler got stuck inside my head with a can of spraypaint and suddenly discovered his mischievous streak. What's worse is that my eyes are tired, and I'm out of coffee. Another few hours to go, unfortunately. But after a while it all starts to calm down. Everyone goes to bed. The house quiets down. Sia Furler plays in Winamp on repeat. The warm glow of the monitor provides a comforting solace on nights like these. Like a warm blanket, almost. Thoughts wander, and focus is lost on nights like these. My bed calls out to me, but I don't listen. Instead I write and surf and browse SF. It's strange how now it's back and it feels like I've finally found a long-lost friend again. I like this place. Hope you're all doing well.