Baby, You Can Do No Wrong

The problem with insomnia is that it’s either boring or a catalyst for making erratic decisions. You know me. I hate to be bored. Some people may wear it well. They get a lot of reading or thinking in.

I get too much reading and thinking in.

My plot to take over the world turns into a plot to take over the world plus paint my room plus write a novel about all eight of my siblings plus invent a new sport plus adopt a parakeet plus build a better business model. It. Is. Exhausting.

So it begins. I can’t sleep.

My freshman year I briefly went through a phase where I didn’t go to bed until 5. Then C and company woke me up at 10 for lunch and class. It was an odd lifestyle, but college was easy and at least the floor had someone awake at all unholy hours to proof read last minute essays. I think I wore it best then.

Summer after freshman year I moved to an island full of crazies. Another phase where I couldn’t sleep. The result; my sister had a last minute companion to a European excursion she’d been planning for months. I bought a plane ticket for a departure seven days away, before I even bought my passport. Call me a bad ass, call me a dumb ass, or call me sleep deprived. Does it matter? I went to England and Norway for a month, leaving behind… everything.

My sophomore year saw a healthy crash. After a few poor grades and my body rejecting my spastic sleep schedule, things warped. The dramatic decrease in my caffeine intake, my obsession with a healthier eating pattern, an increase in physical activity that actually involved going to a gym… all these resulted in my getting more sleep. Hell, maybe it was forced by old age, I turned 20 after all. I met a boy, I began juggling internships on top of my usual jobs, I started down a path that would lead me to graduate early (of all things). Yes, my student loans started going towards tuition and rent again instead of last minute trips to Paris and Sarasota.

Tonight, as I haven’t been able to sleep before midnight for some time and cannot breathe out my nose, it’s becoming wildly apparent to me that my schedule now is very- for lack of a more intuitive word- bland.

As it should be perhaps. I wake up, I gym it, I drink coffee, I go to work, I eat vegetables, I play (er, plot?) with C, and then I go to sleep. Slowly but surely I am getting anxious…not because I am bored per say. I love Chicago (um hello, der) and I do random activities outside the city. Just not random enough. Not silly enough. When did I become so complacent?

I made up a goal last week to visit every state by the time I am 27. New craze, where to next? Let’s take a poll. Name a city/state, most votes wins.

Are you ever afraid you’ll rub your eyes so hard your eye lashes will come off?

I’m off to snuggle with my air conditioning unit and ponder why people use table salt.




-H