Body’s solution to pain: sleep for 15 hours. Wake up at 1130 at night.
Not a very practical solution.
Anyway, I am awake now. Ish. Awake-ish. Don’t feel very functional.
This is the mode (the only mode) in which I would watch television for hours. Because reading is hard, and I can’t focus.
Was thinking about music yesterday. Can’t post my year’s playlist this time because I can’t find most of the songs on the internets. Listened to a zydeco band on repeat with some goth tracks thrown in to jar everything. And that song by Gotye? Yeah. Apparently I listened to that more than anything.
Don’t judge me.
There isn’t a lot to say when you’ve slept that long.
Nothing I did, nothing I thought that was noteworthy enough to pass along in digital text.
Putting words in a line is hard.
I just stumbled across a book for kids. It’s called “All My Friends are Dead”, and has a dinosaur on the cover.
I hate to admit it, but maybe I am a hypocrite.
I am all for acknowledging that life isn’t all roses and unicorns (and that, in fact, both of those things can stab you), but I am not a fan of the disturbing children’s books that I keep running into. I keep thinking to myself that I had a natural inclination to be morbid and dark, and I read books about talking animals and kids and their pets…so…what kind of person I would be if, added to my natural inclinations, I had been given these really disturbing books about creatures whose friends are dead, and kids whose mom’s turn into zombies? (featured on the same page is a book called “That’s Not Your Mommy Anymore”, with that plot)
I don’t know that kids should be encouraged to be morbid.
If they decide later that this is their thing, well…so did I. But I wasn’t thinking that way at age 7, even if I did pick bats when we did reports on our favourite animals. (Really I would have picked the narwhal, but my 3rd grade teacher had never heard of them and thought I was making it up…yeah.)
Ever remember things…little moments where things are so vivid and you know you were there and then, BAM. You are here? Where did all that intervening time go? It makes me wish my memory were worse, in a way. Less certain, so that I wouldn’t feel that unnerving sense of a time jump when the memory ends and I am suddenly here.
I don’t know what I will do now. I’m not tired, of course…but I don’t feel like I could pay attention long enough to read or do anything that might actually be productive, like clean my room a little bit…feel too feverish for that. And I can’t keep writing this post…I sense already that I am getting to the end of what I could possibly write today…
I don’t know.
I guess I’ll figure out something.