Nomen Est Omen

The Chunks That Keep Me Awake

I apparently am indeed writing to myself so I'd like to take a moment to purge some thoughts so that maybe I can get a whopping three hours of sleep tonight.

Tomorrow, today, rather, is my first day of work. What do I do? Well, I'm tired at 6pm but tell myself to stay up at least three more hours so that I don't fall asleep too early and wake up at 3am and have four hours to hang around and get tired again. At 9:30pm I get all into bed like a good little girl, with my HP book, (oh yes, I could have easily read this in one day but I like to savor these books so I force myself to put them down periodically), and think, foolishly, that I will soon be fast asleep so that I may be well rested, alert and comprehending for my first day.

Does this go according to plan?

Need you ask? Have you read anything here before?

First of all, I was towards the end of the book and it got really good and did a fabulous job of playing on my vivid imagination causing my nerves to tingle and heart to race as I sped through each paragraph, the tension mounting. While I won't spoil it for anyone who may have not finished by now, I'm extremely displeased with the ending.

At 11pm I am greeted by a very close and in your face lightning storm that was so loud and sizzling that I hid in my hallway. Seriously. Those strikes were right here within two blocks of where I live if not on the block where I live. I love storms but that stuff tonight scared the crap out of me.

So that passes and I think, stupidly, "No worries, I still have plenty of sleeping time left." Until 1:20 am when some doofus comes banging on my door looking for the new, hot neighbor I told you about in the previous entry. Thanks assface. I was this close to dreamland. He knocks on my door, by the time I got to the door and looked out the little peephole, I saw a flash of red going down the stairs and heard knocking on the downstairs neighbor's door. They had some conversation and I started to head back to bed when fuckweasel is back at my door knocking again. I opened it and he asked for the new neighbor. I told him he had the wrong apartment and went to close the door. He asked if I knew her or knew of anyone who had just moved in. Dudes, it's 1:20 in the morning so all I could think to sputter out was, "Um....I'm not going to share that information with you because I don't think I'm supposed to." I then closed the door. If this had been earlier that night, I would have said something better but I can't be on top of my game all the time.

So I head back to bed. Now I have only 5 1/2 hours till I have to get up so this prompts me to toss and turn thinking about how I only have 5 1/2 hours to sleep and that makes me wide awake. Even though I'm tired as shit.

I put in the one movie that has always worked for this sort of situation. Until tonight. Tonight I'm laying there, thinking of all kinds of crap and can't turn off my mind. I'm thinking of the letter I'm going to write to new neighbor about her late night visitor. I'm thinking about how ticked off I am that it takes me a year to get my pillows back just the way I need them because even though it has been six years since I got into a bad car accident, I still get to pay with injuries. I can't just flop on the bed and pass out anymore like I used to, I have to have pillows situated just so and certain heights for the neck, back and legs and it's such a damn joy when I have to get up and lose that comfort. It takes a long time to get it just right again. You would think I'd be an expert at it by now but alas, I am not.

So then I start getting angry about that whole thing again and how the fucker who hit me took off and even though he was chased and the license plate was taken down, the damn detectives did nothing about it because the assweed said that his car was "stolen". Even though it was back at his house. Yes, cause that's a common thing criminals do...steal something and then bring it back to the owner despite possible detection.

Then I started going over the whole arbitration and settlement and getting more ticked off because I am indeed still bitter about it, (see above where I have to shift pillows around to this day..imagine what else I endure), and then calmed myself down by saying, "Hey, you could be dead or in a wheelchair."

Well this prompted a memory of one night at a club about a year after my accident and meeting some guy in a wheelchair. I talked to him because it was a great reminder to me that I could have been in that contraption. He, idiot that he is, took it to mean I felt sorry for him so he tried to play on my sympathies and get me to buy him drinks all night long. I said I was going to the bar to get another drink did anyone want anything while I was there. He puts his order in, offers no money so I thought, "Fine, I'll get it when I get back." I come back with his expensive ass drink and he still offers no money.

Now, most guys think they are so smooth and clever and fool us girls with sympathy stories or some other such bullshit but the fact of the matter is, at least in my case, I'm always waiting to see if the person will do the right thing. It may cost me $5.50 but I find out rather quickly. So this douche bag thought I was feeling sorry for him and buying him drinks because of that when in reality, I was thinking how lucky I was not to be in a wheelchair and talked to him to further drive the point home so that on days when I did start feeling sorry for myself because of the never ending pain, I would be able to remind myself of this person. And the drink thing was all about courtesy but it didn't mean I was going to buy everyone a fucking drink. I was merely asking if they wanted me to bring them something..you know, one person goes and gets the drinks but everyone pays for their own damn alcohol consumption? So I'm sure this asshole was high fiving his buddies later that night thinking he got another freebie off some girl who was all sad about his situation but that wasn't it at all. Just wanted to see what kind of person he was. I saw it.

Then I realized I have less than 4 hours of sleep to go and think this sucks complete ass because I was being all good and shit and look where that got me....sigh.

At that point it dawned on me that tomorrow is my birthday. And I'm getting old. I don't feel old. I don't look old. I still get carded. But damn, dudes, I'm fucking old tomorrow! Like, when I was 15? I thought this age was ooooold and here I am! Contrary to how it goes for others, this period of time has not passed quickly so it just heightens the old feeling because I'm like, "Man! I've been alive forever!!"

So now I'm old, tired and still pissed off about something that happened six years ago...I have two cats...I yell at the noisy neighbor kids....for fuck's sake. Someone get me a rocking chair and about 38 more cats and I'll be set.

Anyway, hopefully getting this shit out of my head and down somewhere else the thoughts will leave me alone and I can restart the movie that always puts me to sleep and maybe, just maybe I'll get 3.5 hours of sleep.

Unless the cats want to continue playing in the litter box like they have been doing all night.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at August 1, 2005 03:15 AM | TrackBack