Thursday, February 26, 2009

Another 25 things...

25 Things To Do When You Can't Sleep...

1. Make a stupid list of 25 things to do when you can't sleep.

2. Visit all your forums. Find nothing spectacular is going on.

3. Drink a cup of hot chocolate.

4. Smoke to excess.

5. Watch the cats spazz out.

6. Wonder why one cat is sleeping behind the microwave and then remember she's afraid of the other cats as much as I am.

7. Worry that the pain in your side is the onset of appendicitis.

8. Pee about a thousand times.

9. Think about cleaning your office. Decide that you don't care your office is a pit.

10. Go back to your regular forums again and find nothing new has happened since your last visit.

11. Consider writing something profound.

12. Fail to come up with anything profound to write.

13. Rehearse the bad dreams from last night in your mind.

14. Wonder what your day will look like tomorrow...oh, that's later today, isn't it?

15. Curse your diet because you really want to eat something fattening.

16. Get really thirsty and not drink any water because a) your water bottle is in the bedroom with your sleeping husband and b) because you don't want to spend the night peeing a thousand more times.

17. Play stupid computer games until your eyes fall out.

18. (DJs only) wonder what you will play on your next radio show.

19. Wonder what to wear later today.

20. Wonder if taking a shower would help relax you enough to go to sleep.

21. Consider sending really obnoxious forwards to everyone in your address book.

22. Wonder why you started this list in the first place.

23. Be relieved that you're almost at the end of it.

25. Yawn. A lot.

Friday, February 20, 2009

What to Do Today?

Nothing momentous to report. I'm writing this mainly because I'm done with all the usual stuff I do at my computer in the mornings but I don't want to leave cyber-land.

Why am I up so early? I got up at 7 a.m. because Onyx was being a total butt head, chewing on my ear and digging his claws into my neck. I could have just thrown him out of the room and gone back to sleep, but I had to pee and after that I decided I was hungry so I got up.

I'm hungry again already. That often happens when I haven't had enough sleep.

I could:

Mop the kitchen--it really needs it, but I don't want to do that. I never want to do that. Mopping is my nemesis. I think it's been four months since the last time I mopped in there (good thing we have slate grey tiles so the dirt doesn't show!) and a year since I mopped the hardwood floors. There; I've confessed to being a poor housekeeper.

Read. Don't really feel like doing that either, but it's an option.

Practice my flute. I've been into doing that lately. I've finally reached the point where practicing is a joy to me and not something I dread and I'm seeing vast improvement. M. and I play and sing together almost every night, too. Sometimes we do well, sometimes not so well. We have a tentative goal of putting enough of a set together that we could play at the Grand Junction Ren Faire at the end of the summer, but if that doesn't materialise that's okay too.

Anyway, it seems too early to practice somehow. My usual time is two, two-thirty-ish. I find it helps to stick with that routine.

I wonder sometimes about my lack of significant thought. Other people I know who write blogs always seem to have a theme, something to say that's relevant. I don't. I just drift along most of the time and keeping this blog is a random occurrence. I suppose that's why I call it "Random Mutterings."

But then, I don't have a life, do I? My pdoc brought that up, not the last time I saw him, which was just a few days ago, but the time before last. He said, "How can you have anything to talk about if you don't do anything?" My friend S. and I decided he must be a classic Meyers-Briggs "S" type personality, to think that only concrete things matter in conversation. But sometimes I wish I had more of a life. I'd like to do more. Take an art class, for example. I'd like very much to take another dance class, if there were one taught by an instructor I really trusted.

That's the problem with living where I do. I know most of the people here and, face it, except for a few, I don't like or trust them very much. Many seem to be stuck in a party-hearty state which I passed through in my late teens. I just don't find I have anything to discuss with them. And the ones I'd like to know better are all in hiding, as am I.

This is not to discount the fact that I am naturally quite shy and aloof. Maybe it's all my problem. Maybe if I gave other people another chance I'd find someone I really hit it off with. But the last two times I got burned were pretty severe strikes to my self-confidence and now I just don't want to deal...

For the most part I'm happy with my Internet life. But there's a problem with my closest friend being in San Francisco and others being scattered around the globe. You just can't go out and get a cup of coffee with the Internet. I guess you kind of could, but it isn't the same as sitting in a coffee shop and chatting with someone you really feel close to.

I'm sleepy now. Maybe it's time to try to take a nap...

Sunday, February 8, 2009


So, yesterday in the mail I got an invitation from my old High School to the (sic) "25th reunion of the 1978 production of Godspell." It seems they're doing a revival and have invited all the old cast members to a special showing and party. (It also seems they haven't noticed that 1978 was 31 years ago, not 25, but that's my High School for you...)

This invitation upset me. It brought back a lot of memories of that production and of that period of my life. The production aspect wasn't so bad--I never became close to anyone in the cast but that's me for you. Never quite fitting into a group. My best friend was in the band, though, and we had some good times. And I liked the director quite a lot. Sunday rehearsals also gave me an excuse to skip church, which I had never liked going to, but had to go to as my father was the minister.

But that period of my life was a bad one. I was severely depressed and sick most of the time. I hated school--not because of the classes, but because most of my peers treated me with utter contempt and even downright abuse. My family viewed my spiraling depression as...I don't know what. Just me being a bad kid, I guess. I constantly heard I was "not living up to my potential." I nearly flunked out of Physics and that was a sign I was bad, too, not that something was severely wrong in my life.

I started keeping my first journal at that time.

Last night as we were sitting on the couch vegging after dinner, M. asked me, "So are you thinking of how we can get the money to go back to this reunion?" He asked it with a laugh and I knew he wasn't serious but it made me think. Maybe if we were closer to Grosse Pointe and not in such economic distress, I'd want to go. But why? I can't think of one single person from that production that I'd want to see again in real life. Well, maybe one. But that's not enough to make me want to relive the trauma of those days. So why am I even interested in going? Why am I somewhat sorry that I can't?

I had nightmares about being back in High School all night.

M. is back from the store now and I have to go help him unload the groceries, so once again I am left with no answers, only questions. And I leave you with the same.