Insomnia is fun. Not.
A lot of times I get it because I’m used to going to bed exhausted, I’m too tired to just fall asleep, and/or there’s too much going on in my brain. Almost like an alternate, thought-version of the vLog. So here, welcome to the clutter of my slightly battered harddrive.
-I realized with some amount of dismay that I have lines on my face from smiling. And then I almost cried, because when I was nine years old or so I thought to myself that I hoped I was the sort of person who had laughter lines on her face when she grew up. I had been ashamed of them for a small moment.
-Going off of that: living in a culture where ‘nigh every piece of media is telling you that you aren’t pretty is not fun. Even if you fight it.
-I go to a church where there is a place and time for small children to laugh and run in the sanctuary. Such are these…
-I really wish I could cry when things grieve me. But I don’t, I only cry over small petty stuff. So much sense my eyes make. 🙄
-Aching for poemsies.
-Doctor Who is sad. And wonderful. And best with friends. Especially when it’s your little sister.
-I have a rooming assignment for college. I move in on the 15th. It’s really happening.
-Story brainstormings are incredible. It’s all of the excitement, but you’re sharing it with another soul. Which is totally way awesomer.
-Sometimes people are just plain terrifying. And I’m a confrontation wuss. (My Dad says I’m a hobbit in this matter.)
-Maybe I put too much value on needing to feel useful.
-The worst is when you can’t take someone’s weariness and pain away, and you just feel like a flickering light.
-I tried to outline today.
-Sometimes I really, really just want to apologize for being a woman. Because there’s at least two of me: the logical me and the emotional me, and the emotional me doesn’t make any sense to me either. Also, it takes me at least an hour and a half to figure things out because all of the problems are in this one big pile like spaghetti, all touching each other, and almost never are they the real problem. The real problem is that I need a hug, and to be told I am loved (and maybe even why/what) and that I’m important. But I feel better after working through all of the other problems. So I’m really sorry. o.O
-Jill Phillip’s music is increasingly important to me; it resonates more and more.
-I don’t like really admitting I’m terrified. I usually laugh when I say so, even though it might be really true.
-I’m terribly thoughtless of other people, over and over.
-I’m really not just a happy sing-songy grinning little kid. I’ve seen a lot more than you might think.
-I struggle with the balance between ‘brave and open’ and ‘people are afraid to let me carry their burdens for at least a little while.’
-Jetskis are fun. Feeling a little bit dangerous is fun. Almost getting thrown off is fun. Learning to control the jetski is very important. And jetski riders live for the rough waves. Not to mention the sore muscles.
-italia. my italia. I miss it.
-In the words of an old friend, “Israel can kick tail.”
-Friendships can hurt a lot.
-I’m twice as idiotic when I’m tired.
-I wonder how to graph tired….and if there’s musical notes that correspond to those….and what color tired is….
-I should stop now. And find a snazzy footer image. So here, have a picture my friend Sarah took of me that she calls ‘The Mad Poet.’
Because I really am 18. And mad. But that’s all right, because sometimes the world needs a little crazy. Even crazy insomniacs.