inconvenient insomnia

I have had severe insomnia only about four times in my life. I internalize stress and eventually, certain stress manifests in sleep distruption. I am more prone to feeling like I need more and more sleep than to not being able to sleep at all and I am therefore not very good at dealing with this strange lack of sleep. I am stumbling through my days; days that should be fun and excitement-filled, days where I need to be focused and task-oriented; days where I have an awful lot to do - but an awful lot that would usually be kind of fun. I have found myself, this week, unable to catch 40 winks...not even, say... 10 or 12 winks... and the night before last, not a wink at all.

I really don't have time to be overtired.

I am giving you these somewhat mundane details of my sleep habits because along with this lack of sleep has come an overwhelming melancholy, almost a depression... infecting my every move, and every word I write, including here.

So if I seem sad... I'm just unbelievably tired. And if you have any remedies for this insidious insomnia... please let me know. ( I've tried the ones at my disposal, they only work for about an hour then it's BING wide awake again).

some days...

...I am too tired to care about the latest gossip.
...I am absolutely too exhausted for actors to be amusing.
...I am too overwhelmed to answer this forever ringing phone.
...I am in that state where I may not react to the words "I need..." or "can you..." with very good humour.

Today is one of those days.

My usual interest/excitement/enthusiasm is simply not present today. Today I wonder what I was thinking.

mental rewind

I find myself wishing with incomrehensible longing that we could reconvene there in that backyard, around that fire. I wish for the cuddling on the swing, guitars playing, voices raised in song, smoke getting in my eyes (which is good because it hides the fact that the glistening has more to do with sentiment than smoke.) I want to be able to look around that summer night just one more time because then, there, in that moment... we were perfect, all of us.

I thought about it...

...but no.

I was going to write something about an email I received from a friend about another friend. Mike wrote about it already. But I have a feeling it might descend into a debate and in reality I'm just sort of sad the situation arose in the first place. So I refrain, and I abstain.

out of focus

I am oddly torn in a hundred directions. No, torn is too extreme. I feel a strange confusion, an inability to commit to a direction, to a task, to a discussion. Part of me feels that I've done something wrong, that somehow I have ended up on the wrong side of that discussion again.... That I said a wrong thing, simplified too much, made little what was large...

Part is me is just worried about such a simple thing as paying my cell phone bill.