I'm sitting here... it's 2:17 AM... and my trial shift for sous-chef at 'The Gilded Spoon' starts in a few hours. I should be sleeping. Instead, I just finished a five-hour session of 'Starfield.' My wife is asleep, probably dreaming of repainting the living room or... whatever suburbanites dream about. I'm aware of the incongruity—this significant career advancement, the neighbors already asking about it, and my apparent compulsion to sabotage preparation with a dopamine feedback loop. It feels like an external force is guiding my actions, a counter-intuitive impulse. I don't understand the motivation.