Startled awake by cats, kept awake by demons
I used to be able to sleep pretty well with stuff undone in my world. And I guess I still can, but it’s getting harder. I am getting pretty good at leaving things for “whenever” as long as the “right here, right now” shit gets addressed.
But I also know that the “easy” part of my week is already gone and all I have to look forward to is more sleepless nights. Not because of worrying but instead because I’ll be overtired. But yet, the next day or week comes altogether too soon. The nights/weekends don’t just seem to be getting shorter — they actually are.
I used to love the night. Back when it was for partying, for whomever I might have spent it with, or for the much-needed silence it afforded me for thinking, writing or simply vegging out. Now it’s a place where I stare at the clock, thinking, “If I fall asleep now, I can cram in X hours’ worth of Zzzs.” And then I get up and say the hell with it. And I’m not a pleasant girl when I haven’t slept.
So on an equally depressing note, I’ve answered what feels like a billion dating-service e-mails and, well, they write back. Not that I’m shocked, but here’s the Goddess’ dating tip No. 20 billion: Write something that I can respond to. Whether it’s in your profile or in, *gasp*, the actual letter itself, SAY SOMETHING. None of this, “Hey, liked your profile. Write/message me if you want.”
Guess what? DO NOT WANT.
Now, I am a nice enough person that I reward initiative. I’ve written back to almost everyone. Except that dude in the hoodie who looks like the Unabomber. And then there’s the one who’s easily twice my age, the one whom I simply wrote back to thank him for writing to me. Not, “Hey, let’s chat.”
Which is what he did — messaged me to chat! ARGH.
I don’t want to talk to you. Your profile showed me nothing. You showed me no initiative whatsoever than to say I was pretty. Which, DUH. 😉 Thank you for the compliment. Buh-bye. And suddenly, I get this insane message from you in the e-mail asking why I didn’t accept your chat invitation. Because I was busy answering more-interesting e-mails, if you HAVE to know the truth!
And the most interesting people, of course, live hundreds of miles away in one direction or another. But maybe it’s because I don’t necessarily care what they think — hell, if I’m never going to meet them, I can be 100% me and if they don’t like it, oh well. And that’s the THING — they seem to love it. It’s the ones I care about impressing (read: the odds of seeing them some Saturday night are way higher) who I can’t seem to connect with. Go figure. 🙂
Here’s the thing with the out-of-state people. I’m not opposed to leaving town. I’m dreaming of it, in a way. I know, I just moved again and all that jazz (and there IS a lot of unspoken jazz), but I’m absolutely unopposed to a good offer. And the farther away, somehow the better. I think, anyway.
There’s a part of me that wants to save every spare penny (there aren’t many, but the ones that I do spend are to take the edge off my stress level, that’s for sure) and go do something crazy. Like take a vacation and decide to never come back from it. Maybe I should be trolling for guys in Hawaii or Rome or something — go visit, have a fire sale back here and call it an adventure. (Yes, I WILL do anything to get my weeknights back, funny you should ask!)
Now that’s a plan. An unrealistic one? Maybe. But one that might soothe my nerves and get me back to sleep (only to have to be up in three hours)? I’ll take it.