can't sleep, won't sleep

I suppose I should begin with my being overwhelmed with a lineup of to-do things and none of them getting done. Mostly because I fear them. And with fear comes massive procrastination. It seems I've learned nothing from the years before. Very well.

Today's just one of those days where the world feels like a giant balloon and even venturing as far out as the nearest streetlight is a stressful feat. I'm probably exaggerating. My point is, if there was some way I could do 24 hours hiding under the blanket without factoring oxygen, urination and food, I'd do it. Nothing's wrong, really. It's just one of those days.

Anyway, Carolyn mentioned yesterday that I've been all N's been talking about for the past couple of days since I last entertained him. Which makes me think, if all it takes to get someone to like me is pulling up Power Rangers videos from youtube, drawing cats and pretend fighting with plastic swords (I'd rather not revisit this), then hey I'm your girl. I don't really get it either. (Most) children seem to dig me. Girls think I'm trendy. Boys want to hang out with me. If I only transplant that into the adult world rather than this awkward existence, then I am set for life. Also, N's coming to Saturday's gala. I think I'm supposed to dance with him or something. Note to self: nix the heels and practice crouching.

You know, operating a phone sex line doesn't seem to be such a bad occupation. I think I would be really good because apparently my voice has sloth-like qualities which means (if I work on commission) that I can draw out the minutes like nobody's business. Only problem would be my tendency to giggle and think the worst of sex sometimes.

I had to pause after that last sentence because it really got to me.

For a start, I think I won't be ashamed to admit that right now, I would really like to be next to someone right now in the arm grazing arm type of way. Clothing optional.

Something I want to talk to Tina about: Sharon Olds' "Sex without Love" poem managed to talk entirely about sex without the actual description of body parts. I didn't realize that until the second or third reading. I mean as in the expected. Genitals everywhere, and what have you. On the other hand, you have "You Kindly" which talks about sex in every line but is ultimately about the speaker's search for her father's validation. I want to be able to write that sort of poem. In fact, I'm going to make it my goal.

I also want to start a support group for late nighters and late wakers. We are not exactly insomniacs because we are fond of sleep. In fact, we are so fond of it that because we can't sleep at night, we compensate by sleeping most of the day away. Friends and families consider us lazy for the many hours they see us in bed. A tree falls in the forest but nobody is around to hear it. We are awake when they are asleep. How do we, without the aid of chemical substances, manage a "normal" sleeping pattern, and for once, wake up at dawn instead of falling asleep at it?