You think I’m sleep? I ain’t sleep.

When I was younger, I could sleep hard. I slept all the time and it was hard to wake me up. I slept through the worst thunderstorms. Also, fun family events. Sometimes outdoors.

Exhibit A:

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Exhibit B: (This one is from the Derby Festival’s Great Balloon Race one year and I obviously was real into it).

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Exhibit C: In the good old days when it was safe to sleep outside on your deck all night because the air conditioner in the house was broken. Ahh, the 90s.

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Then, as I got older, depression made itself more known, and sleep was damn near impossible. Yet it was all I wanted to do. Sleep and I have had a weird relationship, is what I’m saying.

A few months ago, when the doctor and I (mostly the doctor but a little bit I) decided to check all the boxes that made sure nothing else was causing or aiding the depression, a sleep study was brought up.

I’m a known snorer, mouth-breather, drooler (when I’m REAL sleep) and there was that period of a couple years during and after college when I took various items of clothing off in my sleep. So, a study where someone watched me sleep/potentially do all that? Oh yeah. Sign me up. That won’t be weird at all.

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I made the appointment and regretted it immediately.

They mentioned I could have sleep apnea if I had depression and one could be causing the other and also that’s dangerous so if I have it, better to know now so they can treat it and FINE.

I went in for a consultation a month before the actual overnight and Dr. I Forget His Name said “Well, you do have a very small airway.” So that seemed promising. Not.

(Pour a cup of coffee and settle in, friends, this’ll be a long one.)

Fast-forward to last night. The actual study. I was to go overnight at the hospital and be hooked up to machines and someone would watch me sleep and tell me all the crazy shit that happens while I’m out.

I immediately think about the time I sleepwalked at my parents’ house and was standing in front of the dresser in their bedroom with no pants on and SURELY THEY’LL LOCK ME IN THIS ROOM FOR EVERYONE’S SAFETY.

Spoiler alert – they didn’t.

I am told to get to the hospital at 8:30 p.m., which makes me anxious that I’ll be expected to fall asleep at 9 p.m. and that’s not going to happen because if anything, that’s when my pre-sleep ends and I start watching my shows.

I decide to wear what I’m going to sleep in (in the hospital. At home there’s no telling from one night to the next what I’ll wear or not wear to bed…. that sounds sexier than it really is..), which means leggings and a T-shirt, but a V-neck shirt so I don’t feel like I’m choking. This is important to remember later on in our story.

I walk in to the sleep study office and see two other patients getting set up in their rooms and realize I am the youngest here by AT LEAST 45 years. Yay.

Immediately I overhear two very important questions being asked.

1. “Do y’all have cable?”

2. “Are you going to check on me after I take my Ambien?”

It’s important to note here that this is when I’m heading into my “room” and am noticing there’s not a lock on any of the doors.

The TV is on in my room when I get in there and as luck wouldn’t have it, stuck on the channel showing The Bachelor, aka what I’m pretty sure they show on a loop in Hell. The girl who brings me in there tells me the administrator of the study will bring the remote when she comes in.

Aside: I do not get embarrassed easily, but I get secondhand embarrassment for people a lot, and for that reason, The Bachelor/Bachelorette is my nightmare.

Here’s my setup:

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Mmmm, comfy. And those wires? Yeah, they all go ON YOU.

Another kind of aside: I guess when you’re finally actually asleep, they can get a decent idea of what they’re looking for in these sleep studies, but they’re stacking the odds against you up until that point. You’re in a weird room, with weird noises, an uncomfortable bed, worried that the old lady across the hall on Ambien’s gonna wander in about 3 a.m. and they’re just gonna let it happen because it’s a study and you can’t get involved because that skews the results.

Oh and here’s the video camera they use to watch you the entire time. (This was when I was still in Bachelor Hell).

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I wait for the girl administering the study to come in and do whatever she’s gotta do, all the while having an inner conflict about whether or not I should take my bra off to sleep. On the one hand, it’s much more comfortable to sleep without the girls in Boob Jail and I know I’m not going to be getting much in the way of comfort during this thing. On the other hand, someone’s watching me sleep and has to wake me up in the morning and well, sometimes those things have a mind of their own.

I decide to keep it on. Better safe than sorry.

Before she hooks me up on all the machines, Lauren (my sleep study administrator) explains to me what they’ll be looking for while I sleep, which is mainly if I stop breathing or not. And if so, for how long. And also how many times that happens in an hour. Aka Sleep Apnea, which I do not want to have for a multitude of reasons I’ll get into in a minute.

She says if I’ve stopped breathing enough times by 2 a.m. for them to be concerned (15 or more), she’ll come in then and put the mask on me. So right now, we need to test to see which one I would like to use, should I win this contest I do not even want to be participating in.

The first option is a no-go for me, as it seems like the equivalent of sticking the end of a vacuum against your face, if the vacuum had tiny nostril-sized pieces and you weren’t allowed to open your mouth.

The second option is a little better, because it covers your nose like the happy gas distributor at the dentist, but I still don’t want to have to wear it if I can help it.

Especially because with it all strapped to my head and the tube hanging off of it that hooks to the machine, I look and feel like this:

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I let Lauren know I’m hoping never to have to put one of those on again for the following reasons:

– I oddly feel like I can’t breathe when the air is being forced in and out of my nose and I can’t open my mouth.

– I don’t like sleeping with things on my face.

– I’m thinking of the possibility of a future sleepover with a gentleman caller and having to pull that bad boy out when it’s time to go to sleep. Read my blogs about my dating life. I need all the help I can get in this area, apparently, and this contraption will not do me any favors in that department.

I choose the second option, should I need it, and then the process begins.

Step 1: A strap around my abdomen and a strap that goes right where they have those backpack straps that nobody uses unless they’re hiking. Guess the bra isn’t coming off, even if I change my mind.

Step 2: Vigorous pumice-stoning of my scalp, neck and back. You know what’s really good for dry winter skin on someone that has eczema? Vigorous pumice-stoning, or as my new friend Lauren calls it “exfoliating.” I’m honestly surprised I didn’t a) bleed or b) start a fire.

Step 3: Vaseline/glue-like mix on all the electrodes or whatever that are then placed all over my head and neck and two spots on my back. Oh and two spots on my legs that have also been rubbed raw with the pumice stone just to see what those do in the night.

Step 4: Microphone on the neck to listen to you snore. Taped directly onto your vocal chord. Basically. Oh and then all the wires are tightened up around your neck so really my decision to wear a V-neck because I didn’t want to feel like I was choking all night is laughable now. While Lauren attaches all this crap to me, we talk about Scientology, because I managed to get the channel changed to A&E (which is showing the Leah Remini show), thanks to the remote being located. ((PLOT TWIST, THE REMOTE WAS IN THE NIGHTSTAND THE WHOLE TIME.))

Step 5: They attach a pulse-reader thing to your index finger that is also hooked to wires that are plugged into God knows what, and if you have to go to the bathroom at this point, well, tough shit, because you are now 85 percent robot.

When you’re ready to go to sleep or 11 p.m. (whichever comes first), the administrator comes back in and basically attaches you to the wall. The wires are all plugged into this thing mounted next to the bed and there’s this little speaker right by your head she’s gonna use to communicate until morning. Sweet dreams!

Yeah. OK. Um, there you are, laying in this strange bed in a strange room covered in literally all the wires in the world, knowing that someone’s watching you. You’re worried you won’t fall asleep at all, or it’ll take forever, or you’ll drool and short out a wire, or you’ll fart and she’ll see/hear it, or you’ll stop breathing a million times so she’ll have to come put the face mask on you and…

VERY RELAXING. MUCH SCIENCE. THIS SHOULD GO SWIMMINGLY.

I could feel all the things. And rolling over was hilarious. I felt like the love child of Darth Vader and Sleeping Beauty.

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No amount of Snapchat filters could help.

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One bonus to this process, however, was when I got cold, I could ask that she adjust the temperature and also bring me another blanket and/or pillow. So I did take advantage of that. You don’t get that at home. At least not at my house.

After what seemed like 10 hours, I guess I finally fell asleep. And I guess I slept OK for a while, but it felt like 3 minutes, and then she was asking me to try and sleep on my back.

Though it isn’t evident in any of the photos you’ve seen so far in this post, I’m a side sleeper. Doesn’t matter which side, but side.

Y’all I tried to fall asleep on my back for an hour. Didn’t work. And then I utilized the speaker next to my head and asked if I could please just lay on my side for God’s sake. This was at 4 a.m. They were coming to wake me up/the study was ending at 6.

I fell back asleep for what felt like 5 minutes and then I heard the omnipresent voice of Lauren telling me it was 6:24, she’d let me sleep in, and she was coming in to “set me free.” Literally.

I don’t normally wake up at that time, so I was still pretty groggy when she came in. You know what wakes you right the fuck up though? Tape being pulled off your skin that she rubbed a layer off of the night before. More effective than coffee, goddang.

I had to fill out a survey basically about how shitty I slept compared to normal nights at home and then I was free to go. I should have added at the bottom how I believe the least they can give us in the morning for this torture is a damn doughnut.

After they removed all of the electrodes from my head I had a real nice case of Sex Hair, and I was silently thanking myself for bringing a hoodie – which I used to hide said bird’s nest hair as I Walk of Shamed it out to my car.

Good news: No sleep apnea. Other results within a couple weeks.

Better news: My depression’s still just because of those run-of-the-mill wonky brain chemicals.

Best news: No future as a Batman villain.

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Hallelujah.

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The Tale of Laura and The Ghost Lizard

If you follow me on Twitter at all, you know that I tend to Tweet exponentially more when I can’t sleep, which unfortunately for me but fortunately for y’all has been happening a lot more often lately. Part of it’s some changes in my balance of chemicals but for a while, it was attributed to The Ghost Lizard.

Now. Many of you don’t know the origin of GL. But I’m 90 percent sure he found me in Jamaica and stowed away in my bags and came home with me.

You see, one night while we were there this past summer, we had a lock-in at the church with our friends in Jamaica. And for some strange reason and because Jason wanted sleep, TJ and I were left somewhat in charge for the night, meaning we sat in the room out by the sanctuary and watched a movie on his laptop while taking turns going back and telling the youth to be quiet and go to sleep because we had a bus ride to the beach leaving at 4:30 a.m.

Well. Maybe it’s because the movie was The Woman In Black and therefore made us more aware of ghosts, but we heard a noise at some point we were pretty sure was not a kid, because they’d finally quieted down and (hopefully) gone to sleep. We heard it a couple of times and TJ said it was a lizard, while I said it was a ghost. Ta-da! Ghost Lizard was born – or discovered or whatever.

I thought nothing of it for a few weeks after I came home, but then one night I couldn’t sleep and it sounded like, I kid you not, a small animal was moving through the boxes around my makeshift bedroom in my parents’ basement.

Now, maybe I was just super sleep deprived or crazy, but you all, I was standing on my bed at 3:15 a.m. that first night holding a book in one hand and a pen in the other hand (sufficient weapons, I think) ready to attack if needed. Or to push the boxes and see if the thing made any more noise.

I can’t handle rodents. I really can’t. There was a mouse in the garage once (actually probably several) and I have never gotten in to my car faster than I did that week. I also once screamed at it as I ran “You don’t own me, mouse!”

So that was my first thought as to what might have been crawling around in my room making noise. Ew.

But the next day I looked around and moved some boxes and dug through some stuff and there was no sign of a mouse or anything like it at all – no holes in boxes, no rodent poop, nothing dead.

Next night? Something started moving in the walls.

Few things are as unsettling as being woken up by something skittering within the walls along the pipes and I’m just laying there staring at the ceiling hoping it A.) Shuts up and B.) Doesn’t find it’s way out and attack/eat me.

I hoped it was just there for the night and would find it’s way back outside and I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

But then it came back, and all of the sudden I’m googling shit like, “Do squirrels sleep?” and imagining this Ghost Lizard asshole just moving around in there to mess with me. Because it was seriously right behind my head in the wall.

I didn’t even care that the thing was in the wall – I would have supported him moving to another room, where he wasn’t DIRECTLY BY MY FACE when I needed at least 3 hours of consecutive sleep. But nooooooooo, that would be silly.

All of this time, also, I’ll have you know, I’m picturing the damn thing looking like the cockamouse from How I Met Your Mother and OMG I wish I could find a clip from that episode because its one of my favorites and solidified my love for Jason Segel.

So after a few sleepless nights and when attempts to scare the thing to death or at least back out of the house didn’t work (I hit the wall a lot and bruised a couple knuckles. It was like a bar fight only lamer) – I told the Killer of all the Gross Stuff, Dad, to take care of it. So he threw poison in the wall that would make the thing get thirsty and go outside and die, he said.

Fine by me.

Except the POISON DIDN’T WORK. The Ghost Lizard was immune to poison, because, he was already dead. Ghosts can’t be killed. They can only “move on,” which I learned from Casper.

(Speaking of – Devon Sawa is one of my favorite people to follow on Twitter. And he’s still real hot.)

I think it took about a month on and off for whatever it was to finally go away. I don’t know what worked or how, but I like to think that really threatening last punch to the wall I gave (when Dad said, “Stop hitting the wall before you put a hole through it and whatever it is comes out and gets you”) that sealed the deal.

The Ghost Lizard was vanquished (I think) and all is right with the world.

Breathe in, breathe out

Three hours after I was supposed to be sound asleep last night, I wasn’t. I hadn’t even come close yet.

Instead, I laid there (lie there? I never know the right tense) and stared. I stared at the closet door and then I rolled over and stared at my bookcase. I stared at the light blinking on my closed – and sleeping, ironically – computer.

It slowly lit up and dimmed. In rhythm with my breath, actually. For a second, the million thoughts running through my brain stopped and I just concentrated on that light, getting brighter, then dimmer. Breathing in, breathing out.

Then the thoughts came back. The text came back. The word that a friend had passed away. That he had taken his own life. That he needed to find peace so badly there was no other way, in his mind, to make it all stop, to make it all go away.

My heart broke again. For him. For his brothers, who are also my friends. For his mom. For his dad. For his other friends, his closer friends, who wished they’d seen it coming, wished there had been some clear sign before it was too late, some way they could help.

I stared. So tired, but so awake. I tried to think about other things, and was successful a couple times. And then it came again, like a wave crashing. It still does. I feel sad again. I think about my friend. I think about the last time I saw him, the last time I hugged him, the people who are doing the same thing I am right now, rolling it over and over in their minds and wondering why.

Why him? Why was that the answer? Why do people feel like that is the only way to quiet the noise that you want to turn off so badly and how do we protect the people we love from feeling that way? Can we?

I don’t want to believe it. Not him, couldn’t be him. We used to work together. And since then, the times I’ve seen him have unfortunately been few and far between. But I remember the times when I saw him every day. When I gave him a hug every day. He was my friend. My sweet friend, who when I saw him a year ago at a wedding had that same smile I always remembered, that same hug I got every day we worked together. Those memories, mixed with the memory that randomly popped in my head – when he convinced me to get onstage at the bar where he worked because my Halloween costume was so good it had to win the contest. And it did. It was the year I was Juno, by the way.

I don’t know why that memory specifically sticks out. But it does. That one and one from the same bar, when he sang karaoke. I didn’t know he could sing, but he could. Well.

I’m finishing this up at midnight… 24 hours from when I tried to go to sleep last night. Tonight doesn’t feel much different. The pang in my stomach is fading whenever that wave comes. But the wave still comes. The sadness still comes. The fear of not knowing if someone’s feeling like this, when someone’s feeling like this. Before it’s too late.

I’ve been low. You know that. But to think that there’s lower? There’s a point where it stops being “I just don’t want to get out of bed today” to “I just don’t want to get out of bed ever again.” Hurts my heart.

There’s a quote about being kind to everyone you meet, “for everyone is fighting a hard battle.” And unfortunately, and what’s scary is, a lot of the time it’s not a battle you can see. And the only thing that can bring an end to battle is peace.

I hope… no, I know, that he has found the peace he was so badly wanting, needing, craving. I just wish, selfishly, for his family, for his friends, that’d he’d have been able to find it another way.

Rest well, sweet friend. And watch over the ones you love and you left behind. Help them feel the peace you have now. You will be missed.

Two eight

Tuesday night I didn’t fall asleep until well after 2 a.m. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I read before bed, I didn’t go anywhere near the computer after work, I watched 10 minutes of the Weather Channel. Nothing helped.

And so I laid there. Staring at the ceiling and then the wall while I tried to think about nothing. Which is damn near impossible. Because I think that’s what you’re supposed to do in yoga, which makes every attempt to get you there, but all I was thinking about last time was “Really? This is yoga? Why haven’t I done this before? We’re basically just power-napping right now!” And then I thought about the nap I was
gonna take that weekend and how it was the first one I’d have taken in the past month because I’ve been busy and here’s why I have been busy and blah blah shut up already.

Tuesday night’s insomnia was nothing new, but the thoughts running through my head were. You see, today I turn 28. No big deal, right? Right, just like every other year of my 20s (after 21 of course). But for some reason, in those 2 hours after I attempted to go to bed, 28 seemed really scary.

If I had to metaphor it for you, it’d be like I was about to bungee jump (which I would never do in real life because that’s how your leg gets torn off and also, heights? Holy shit.). I was standing there, holding on and scared. I didn’t know what it was going to be like, I wasn’t ready for it and what in the hell had even brought me here?

On Tuesday night, that’s how I felt about my impending birthday. You guys, I have never felt like that about a birthday. I thought it’d come at 30, which makes so much more sense, because 30! No more 20s!

And here’s where it gets all therapy-like. Bear with me for a minute. Sidenote: Found a new therapist, that returns phone calls! One less thing to worry about! Now, if we could just stop playing phone tag and set up an appointment already…

You know what I thought about Tuesday night? Plans. Like, the plans when you’re younger and think you can control life to an extent and figure by this age you’ll do this and that age you’ll do that and 16-year-old me thought that by 28 I’d be married with one kid already, if not two. Funny how things work out.

I don’t know what I thought I’d be doing for work at this time, but I know an entertainment magazine of some sort was the priority. Glad that didn’t happen, though, because I’m pretty sure there aren’t any based in Louisville, at least not the kind I want to work for. And I need to stay here. This is where my heart is. Also, Derby.

Every once in a while – and it’s very rare – I feel like it’s Groundhog Day, but only for me. I’m doing the same things I’ve always done the same way I’ve always done them but around me, everyone else is moving on, changing, growing.

It’s silly. I worry about silly things. Because life, right now, for me? Is great. Is it what I thought it would be when I was 16? Nope. Is that a bad thing? HELL no. When I was 16 I also thought that being treated like crap by a guy was OK because hey, it was attention. Things change, people change, and I’m glad I’m where I am today because who said I’d be happy if I’d gotten what I thought I would when I was 16 by now?

It’s dumb to be scared, because it’s just another birthday – just another year that doesn’t really mean anything unless I make it mean something. And I plan to. Good things, remember? And I’ll bungee jump (metaphorically, not in real life). I’ll go into 28 willingly, not holding on to 27 for dear life because I’m used to it and I know it’s
safe and OK and happy and fine.

So after those two hours of anxiety-ridden tossing and turning Tuesday night, reading several articles on Cracked to get my mind off things and listening to a song Baby Einstein introduced me to first thing Wednesday morning, I was fine. I still am fine. And I’ll be fine. Just don’t ask me to bungee jump for real. I like having both legs.

P.s. The song Cheesebob told me about was Fun.’s “Be Calm.” Should become my motto. But it’s addicting and we sing it loud and I love it a lot.

Also, while I am scared of heights, that doesn’t mean I won’t try new things if they’re up high. What do I mean? Well there’s a good chance yours truly is riding in a balloon in the Derby Festival’s balloon race. WHAT? Let the irrational fears of death by balloon crash commence.

Oh, and happy birthday to me. Twenty-eight. Bring it.

Not sleeping is not a good thing

For a good portion of my adult life – I’m counting mainly after college – I’ve had trouble, off and on, with insomnia.

A little over a year ago, when my anxiety was at an all-time high, it was probably the worst it’s been. Lots of late-night TV and Internet roaming for this lady.

During that time, I got on Facebook every so often, wondering if there was anyone else up having the same problems as me that I could talk to. And one name kept showing up on my online friends.

He and I started talking after I told him I noticed we had the same hours. He joked that he was nocturnal and sometimes, a vampire, but it never went beyond that, just the Internet equivalent of a nod of the head every so often when we “saw” each other at the same place at the same time.

I knew him from high school. We weren’t close by any means, it was more of a friend of a friend situation, but we knew who the other was. A while back, we were no longer Facebook friends anymore..though I can’t remember if it was he or I that hit the remove button. We hadn’t talked in a long time and if it was me, that was probably my criteria for a friends-list reduction.

Last night, while looking at my news feed, his name popped up, because another friend was praying for his family. That could mean one of two things, so after a couple messages and reading through his Facebook wall, I found that he’d passed away.

Apparently, from what I heard, his father had passed away earlier this week. He died Thursday or Friday and my fellow vampire wasn’t taking it very well. From what it sounds like, the need for sleep was even stronger now, as I’m imagining he wanted to just check out for a little while and not have to think about what had just happened.

Friday night he took some sleeping pills and on Saturday, he didn’t wake up.

Hearing about this last night broke my heart. And kept me from sleeping until about 3 a.m.

It’s a scary thing, especially as it’s just that easy to no longer be in this world.

Insomnia’s no joke. If it was that easy to just go to sleep, it would happen. People wouldn’t lie awake worrying and thinking and letting their mind take control. They would be able to put all that’s on their hearts and minds away for a while. But a lot of people can’t. And they take medicine for it or do other things to try and make the thoughts just STOP.

But very easily, accidents can happen.

I’m not pretending to know everything involved in this guy’s life and his death this past weekend. But I do know that a year ago, when I couldn’t sleep either, he was the only other person I knew who always seemed to be up.

My heart hurts for his family and his friends and his fiancee, who must be feeling things right now that I can’t imagine.

Last night, when my eyes finally started to close and I was saying my prayers, I made sure to say one for him and for his family. Somehow, I finally got my thoughts to quiet down enough for me to sleep. And for that I am grateful, because for others, it’s not that easy.

Ode to a channel/Why I need to get a life

I probably should just leave the TV off before I go to bed. I’d probably sleep better. Or I could at least put it on the History Channel. That’s usually guaranteed to put me to sleep, unless of course they’re showing “Gangland” or something – because I’m not about to not learn how to survive should I ever go to jail. Not that I would.

Speaking of jail, though… you’ve heard how I think I was either a criminal or a cop in a past life. So that may explain why I like truTV. It’s got a lot of crappy shows, but there’s a lot of good stuff too – like COPS, Forensic Files and tons of those shows where you can watch videos of people breaking their bones or something else.

Oh, and Sunday nights they show Las Vegas Jailhouse. I never want to go to jail, btw. I wouldn’t last a day.

Anyways. That’s the channel I watch before bed. And it gives me crazy dreams sometimes, but mostly it’s just interesting.

Seriously, the intro to Forensic Files is always something completely off the wall that hooks you – for example, something like “Find out how a toilet paper roll, a pencil and a VHS copy of The Little Mermaid helped stop a serial killer.”

I’m not even joking. Sometimes those intros come up and I’m like, “dammit, now I’m hooked!” They can figure anything out through forensics. It’s unbelievable.

So. Here are a few haikus to show my love for channel 36 on my TV. I need to get a life, I know. Don’t remind me.

Forensic Files
Blades of grass can solve murders
Who needs blood or hair

TruTV you are
my favorite channel but
you should show Cheaters

Las Vegas Jailhouse
What to do when arrested
Keep your damn mouth shut

Shocking videos
Cringeworthy, but I still watch
They have a death wish

COPS, COPS, COPS, COPS, COPS
I’ll watch any day or time
Wish I had G4.

A bit of a time-out, if you will

In the interest of keeping SOME things private – but not too much, I mean, I’ve told you some weird stuff – I’ve been kind of quiet here on the ol’ blog for the past couple weeks.

I’ve posted stuff, of course, but it’s been things I’d already written a while ago, or for something else, or pictures, or seriously, watch that Harry Potter preview and just TRY not to get chills.

Long story short(ish). Stress and emotions have been at a bit of an elevated level the past couple of weeks. If we had to give it a color, like the threat levels they used to show on CNN, it’d probably be in the yellow/orange range. Emphasis on ORANGE. A DEFCON 3, perhaps.

And I’d totally tell you kids all about it but I’d kind of rather not, at least not at the moment. I just felt like I needed to explain myself. Kind of. Vaguely. Don’t take it personally. And don’t worry, no one’s hurt or sick or moving or being mean to me. I’ve just got a lot on my mind about a lot of different things and it’s distracting.

But it’s also getting better. Or at least it should soon. And, FYI, if anyone else is awake at, um, 2 or 3 a.m. most nights and wants somebody to talk to, there’s a 90-percent chance I’m awake too. Insomnia’s a bitch – one I thought I’d effectively punched in the face and told to back up off me and not come around again, but apparently not. I guess I was never that good at being a bully.

Have no fear though, children. After a short hiatus (you may not even notice it) for one of those holiday weekends the kids are always talking about – I’ll be back. With new and exciting stories and rants and amazing photography for you to check out. I know what the people want.

I’m headed out of town for the next few days to celebrate America with some of my BFFs. And you know that means I’ll come back with some stories. Case in point – I’m going tubing, which is on that big to-do list I keep telling you about.

Tubing is something I have never done and so far the only advice I’ve gotten about what to do is “Make sure your bathing suit bottoms stay on.” AWESOME.

Oh. And last time I visited these friends and we were on a boat in a body of water, a moth flew up my nose. Ew. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit thinking about that.

So keep checking back. It’ll be worth it, I promise.

Mind full

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Words in all caps make me feel like they should be shouted.

I’ve gotten e-mails in all caps before. It makes me feel like I’m being yelled at.

I have insomnia.

I wish I could turn the air off but I’m paranoid that the stupid Ticketmaster tickets with their new printing that makes the letters melt off if it gets above a certain temperature will get too hot and be messed up then we’re out 60 bucks a piece.

I wish I could sleep at normal hours of the day.

Last night was awesome – I need more nights like that in my life.

Everyone asked me if I still worked at the restaurant tonight. Should I be nervous? I mean I want to work there..

We’ve been spoiled by the smoking ban here. Tomorrow night I’m gonna be at a bar full of smoke. My contacts may fall out of my eyes.

My bed is comfortable, but could be even more comfortable, dammit I need new pillows.

My black flip flops have lasted about 5-6 years. I will not get rid of them until I can no longer walk in them. It’s coming though.

I have no idea what kind of car I want to get next year. Won’t be a focus though.

Why haven’t I been to Improv in forever?

There are a lot of random things that come to mind after 1 a.m. when you SHOULD BE SLEEPING.

Found out last night that they play some good music from about 4 years ago at 3 a.m. on 98.9.

TV in the bedroom hasn’t been plugged in since before vacation.

When you face a wall at the beginning of the song, karaoke’s not so scary.

I haven’t been to BG in a year and I cannot wait to go tomorrow today.

Can you acquire ADD, lactose intolerance or asthma?

When I have a house someday I want a pool and a projector and a huge screen and every Friday night I’m gonna have movie night in the pool for my friends and family.

Good night.

Ode to insomnia

Oh insomnia, you keep me awake when I really need to be sleeping.
You make me watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S. at 11:30 and midnight, even though I’ve seen every single episode, several times in fact.
You make me need/want to take naps at odd times of the day – like 7 p.m.
I can’t turn my brain off when it’s time to go to bed, and I’m tired in the morning.
TV isn’t helping – I’ll watch COPS if it’s on in the middle of the night – and LOST at 1 a.m.
So, even though I should be sleeping now, here I sit, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and not tired in the least.
And tomorrow I’ll be tired, and then do it all over again.

Nightey night…in at least another hour..

P.s. I am horrible at updating this thing lately. But I will get better. 🙂