Lately I've been having trouble getting to sleep at a reasonable hour. Once I do drift off, I usually sleep straight through the night, but getting to that point is practically like pulling teeth. I think I have a mental block from going to bed before midnight because I feel like I am missing out on my life when I am in bed. And before you lecture me on the importance of rest--I know all the facts and figures already. I don't usually stay awake on purpose. It just kind of happens.
Part of it is a restlessness that I have been building up for the past few years. Small changes keep me from losing my mind completely, but I want to feel I've done something worthwhile with my life. At the end of the day, I need to feel accomplished. Some days, when I'm pitiful, it's enough to know that I put in a full day's work and took a shower. Others, like today, I commit myself to creative tasks. This time it's blogging, preparing notes for my new travel diary (blog) coming soon, and working on my screenplay/stories/writing exercises. Other days it's making a collage or a necklace. Still others involve cleaning and rearranging the apartment. I find that my optimum productivity tends to happen in the evening. I think deeper, I feel stronger. Back when I used to go to the gym all the time, I nearly always worked out at night after work.
There's just something about staying up late that's invigorating and somewhat inspiring! Maybe it's the little kid in me that is ecstatic about ditching bedtime; perhaps it's that in pretty much every fairytale, most the magic happens at night. But whatever the subconscious motivation, I cannot seem to buckle down and get myself into a sleeping pattern that makes any sense. Part of me kind of likes it--that is, the part of me that isn't severely grumpy when that rare exhaustion sneaks up. It's probably all in my head, but I have to say it all makes for interesting dreams. The other night, I dreamed that Whitteny had a bowl-cut that was lopsided. She had also dyed her hair dark black with random blotches of coppery bleach blonde. We were yelling at each other in a kitchen that looked like it came straight out of the 70s. Also, Whitteny (true insomniac) and I (quasi-insomniac) frequently have dreams that we have ventured into a small bathroom that suddenly becomes huge and filthy, with puddles of sewage and no toilet paper, and voyeurs. haha. It's hard to explain without too much detail. We'll be asking Synda, our college group's resident dream-interpreter, about the possible significance...I think it mostly just signifies we're both kind of nuts.
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