It's midnight. I'm awake. My brain won't shut up. It's like the freshman-year roommate who waits until you're just on the brink of passing out before launching into a two hour monologue about her senior prom.
Except this is my brain. Talking. Constantly.
It can start out by running through a shopping list that careens into a mental check of the bank balance which in turn morphs into a mini anxiety attack about my weight/hair/age/wrinkle status before looping over to the revisions which roll into planning contingency situations from Asteroid Impact all the way through Zombie Infestation which it thinks should really be a book before adding things to the mental Target list from the beginning of the evening which always provides the opportunity to wonder if that (whatever that may be) is on Wiki?
And oh, but I can't zero in on any one topic to shut up the noise. No, sir. My head is a radio tuned in between two strong stations, or someone flipping channels. Nothing's sticking around for more than a couple of seconds, and I'm tired. I just want to sleep and it won't shut up.
I think this is all the weather's fault. It's going to snow. It's supposed to snow. It's supposed to/going to snow tomorrow. Seriously. All week, hyperbole-y weathermen have been standing in front of maps talking about low pressure systems sliding in and mowing down the state with another bout of winter weather and now it's the eve of the snowstorm, and I haven't shaken that tingle of anticipation of a snow day.
Even though I'd have to work no matter what. I think the brain's on full tilt because of the snow. At least, that's the theory I'm working with now. Or maybe I shouldn't have thrown back that last cup of coffee, even though that last cup happened before 5 p.m.
Gah.
It's all singing, all dancing, all sitcom-lines-repeating in here. And I just know that if I do manage to fall asleep, my brain will retaliate by giving me desperate-to-fall-asleep dreams, or I-graduated-eleven-years-ago-but-I-have-to-take-Algebra-I-again dreams, or my favorite, work anxiety dreams!
I'd ask for a room change, but where exactly do I direct that complaint?
Except this is my brain. Talking. Constantly.
It can start out by running through a shopping list that careens into a mental check of the bank balance which in turn morphs into a mini anxiety attack about my weight/hair/age/wrinkle status before looping over to the revisions which roll into planning contingency situations from Asteroid Impact all the way through Zombie Infestation which it thinks should really be a book before adding things to the mental Target list from the beginning of the evening which always provides the opportunity to wonder if that (whatever that may be) is on Wiki?
And oh, but I can't zero in on any one topic to shut up the noise. No, sir. My head is a radio tuned in between two strong stations, or someone flipping channels. Nothing's sticking around for more than a couple of seconds, and I'm tired. I just want to sleep and it won't shut up.
I think this is all the weather's fault. It's going to snow. It's supposed to snow. It's supposed to/going to snow tomorrow. Seriously. All week, hyperbole-y weathermen have been standing in front of maps talking about low pressure systems sliding in and mowing down the state with another bout of winter weather and now it's the eve of the snowstorm, and I haven't shaken that tingle of anticipation of a snow day.
Even though I'd have to work no matter what. I think the brain's on full tilt because of the snow. At least, that's the theory I'm working with now. Or maybe I shouldn't have thrown back that last cup of coffee, even though that last cup happened before 5 p.m.
Gah.
It's all singing, all dancing, all sitcom-lines-repeating in here. And I just know that if I do manage to fall asleep, my brain will retaliate by giving me desperate-to-fall-asleep dreams, or I-graduated-eleven-years-ago-but-I-have-to-take-Algebra-I-again dreams, or my favorite, work anxiety dreams!
I'd ask for a room change, but where exactly do I direct that complaint?
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