May 9, 2004


All of a sudden Blogger is different!

I simply cannot describe how exhausted I've been today. I managed to get a few things done (housework, some Fulcrum stuff, etc.), but really in the past 3 days I haven't been 20% as productive as I'd like to have been. Admittedly, I guess one has to rest at some point, but I have so much to do. Insomnia is kicking my ass, though. It seems I spend half the night freaking out and trying to sleep.

Also today mostly on the verge of screaming or crying. Naked, tortured prisoners on the news, my own nonsense piling up in my head. The tiredness, and a sense of my own aging. I've felt so out of synch with myself lately, even though I've been getting a fair amount accomplished. It's depressing, though, how the majority of my leisure time is spent "working" in one capacity or another, it's the price of trying to balance a day job and an entire second "career" as a writer. I can't remember the last time I had "fun," exclusively. Yes, I go to plenty of poetry events, etc. which are "fun," the Yartsale was also "fun," but it was also work in a certain capacity. I need to go to the beach or hiking or SOMETHING that is completely removed from my life as a worker drone and my life as a struggling writer. I don't even know what that would be at this point. I don't really have any "hobbies" (I suppose you have to count writing as a "hobby" of a sort, as it does not tend to make much money), I have been too exhausted to go to the gym, which is something I should really do since that would most likely help with the insomnia.

Thinking of some old Lemonheads lyrics "I'm too much with myself, I wanna be someone else." From "Drug Buddy," I believe. I'm becoming a strange recluse, if I had pets, I'd be turning into one of those weird "cat people" or "dog people" (no offense to those of you with cats or dogs, I'm talking about a very specific phenomenon here, which doesn't actually apply to any of you). Too exhausted today, even, to write. I need to catch up on about 3 weeks of sleep. There are lots of things I need. I need to go to the beach, I need a yellow pony, blah blah blah. Blogging as a form of talking to oneself. I suppose that, at least, is a good thing otherwise I'd probably be walking around muttering to myself, which is probably not too far away. Perhaps I need to start building model ships in bottles or becoming obsessed with geneology. When did I suddenly become 32 going on 60?

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