Actually, my attempt to sleep at night has ended poorly. I'll probably go to sleep after this, at least for a minute or two.
I would like to blame the boy, but it's not that. I've been staying up super late for so long now that no matter how tired I am, the moment I go into the bedroom I just lay there and stare at the ceiling. I also don't think I'm used to sleeping next to anyone any more.
My poor husband...
I've been moving back down to the couch, and I'll pass out there for an hour or two and then drag my sorry butt back to bed in the hopes that I'll get at least 6 hours of sleep... I finally drift off around 5. If you combine all the naps, I get enough. It'll all be different in two months regardless so what's the point of dwelling.
But dwelling is what I do.
The last few nights I've spent drawing on my couch. We recently acquired a scanner so I'm working on some pictures for a story idea for my boy. I read the opening of the story to my husband earlier, which took about 15 minutes because I was laughing the entire time. I suppose when you spend that last who even knows how many years writing stories that are filled with sex and violence when you start writing stories about Ninjas that live in your shoes... I'm sure you can see my point.
When I went to that writers meeting a few weeks back and they asked me what I've written I answered, "pick something" and honestly, that really isn't a lie. Children stories, poems, fiction, non fiction, science fiction, porn (I'm sorry "erotica") horror, screen plays, regular plays... self help... this crap... is it wrong that sometimes this is my favorite crap to write?
They, the people at the meeting, asked me if I was published - technically, yes. If you're reading this - I am, in fact, published. No, not in the form Jane Austen was, but that's what this is. I think blogging is the perfect representation for what our society has become - it is the quickest fix that we can find. No need for patience, no need to press on - it's immediate and in your face, and the best part? There are no guidelines - its not like fiction writing where you need to have close to 75,000 words to say it's a draft or a script where you need 90 pages to say its a feature. It's the oral gratification of the writing world.
Say it fast!
Say it slow!
Say it crudely or make love to it all night long...
There is no set way to do it or set thing you need to say in it.
And then, to make it even easier, you're alone - even if you really are not. But you can trick yourself into this sense of security, because when you stop for a second to look around the room, there is no one there. Just you and your computer. You and your words.
Word masturbation -> blogging.
I love it. I love reading all these other peoples thoughts. Be it poetry, something like this, sports updates and on and on... I'm trying to get there - to make time to read through and see what people are saying. And then I love it even more.
Sometimes you just feel down right sneaky - a peeping Tom at someones window... McFly up in the tree with is binoculars looking into that window...
Here's hoping I don't fall out of the tree.
Trust me, I'm not criticizing blogging at all. Not in the least. I was just thinking about it, thinking about why I do it. It's going on four years now. Before it was just for kicks or to keep people in the loop, but then it became about sanity.
I told my sister it helps - I've told all of you the same, and it does. And I like to think I help others too. I hate when I lose my mind. I HATE when I don't feel in control of my life. (I am in no way a controlling person, but I like to have my p's and q's in line, and when I don't...)
I love the false sense of security I have here and I like even more knowing that it really is false, for this is the window into my bedroom and I am, in fact, letting you see me naked... suddenly now you're McFly.
When I'm out in the "real world" there are just so many different facades I wear, some by choice, some because I don't have a choice, and the rest are just a defense mechanism - that I've been doing for year.
"Better Son/Daughter" Rilo Kiley - and this one is really for the words:
"...and sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on and your friends they sing along and they love you. But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases you for weeks in its absence. But you'll fight it and make it through, you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up to work with a smile. You'll be better, you'll be smarter, more grown up and a better daughter or son and a real good friend. You'll be awake, you'll be alert, you'll be positive though it hurts and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends. You'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest, you'll be brave. You'll be handsome, you'll be beautiful. You'll be happy..."
I'm happy, most days...
A lot more than I was. I still have my moments, but I'm only human now aren't I?
My life is more in control, as much as it can be. And while I look at things like A Better Son/Daughter, the words are just becoming reminiscent of things.
Anyway, tonight, I'd much rather be thinking about songs that make my skin tingle - not my heart hurt. So, while I love those words, I'd much rather be singing along to Dream a Little Dream -
"...Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all your worries behind you. But in your dreams, whatever they be. Dream a little dream of me."
Sexy is better than sad
Blogging is better than going crazy
And insomnia is better than staring at a ceiling
Time to sleep.
Time to dream...
"...say nighty night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, while I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me..."
Sing it to me Louis!