I haven’t been sleeping well. Well, I haven’t slept well for quite some time. On a lucky night I can swing between 4-5 hours and possibly manage a nap on the weekends. The thing is, when it’s the fourth day in a row where you have shifted in and out of consciousness for the four hours, you don’t get a sufficient amount of REM.
But I still dream. It’s ridiculous. Recently my dreams have run the emotional gamut but everything has been bad. In one, I robbed a bank and Wil Wheaton was the getaway driver. He drove us into a lake (accidentally I hope) and I had to scream at him to stop and let the pressure equal out. I remember chastising him about Mythbusters going over all of that in at least two episodes. I woke up AFTER I was struggling to breathe.
Last night I had a dream that I was being tortured for information about television shows I had never seen (or watched when I was young). Strange, yes. They broke my wrist. At about three am this morning I woke up and realized that I had folded my hand at the wrist and it was very close to breaking.
It seems that my body works against me when I’m trying to get a good night’s sleep. It thinks that I have to constantly be moving or I will die. My body is an asshole.
That being said, when I manage to get the correct allotted amount of sleep, I feel like I haven’t had any at all. This, in turn, results in me either being deliriously happy, over exaggeratedly angry, or delightfully insane.
Add in a few of my favorite things and stuff happens. Coffee + Alcohol = sporadic dancing mostly. It’s not that I need any of those things to do, but they help on certain occasions.
I don’t know where I was going with this. I really don’t. I wish I did, but I’ve reached the point in exhaustion where things don’t necessarily make sense.
If someone has to kill me, I hope it’s a velociraptor. Or a velociraptor/saloon girl hybrid. Not, scratch that. Being bludgeoned to death by meaty hands clutching a Jack Daniels bottle would be the worst way to die ESPECIALLY if they screech. Screech bludgeoning has been removed from my “Ways I’d Like to Die” list. Why I have this list is beyond me. I should probably destroy the list because then someone could argue that they were doing me a favor.
I’m telling you right now, if you kill me you are not doing me any favors. I don’t believe in hell so I have no qualms with taking my own life. Wow. This just got crazy dark.
So I’m going to switch topics.
Recently I went to my ten year high school meetup. Originally it was going to be an organized reunion, but that fell through. There were so many things that contributed to it not happening, I have to admit I was a little soured to going to the meetup.
I’m glad that I ended up going. I ran in to a bunch of people that I didn’t particularly know from highschool. I don’t remember a lot from high school and from the whirlwind of angry, hurt and bitter messages that I had read I was glad that I hadn’t.
You see, for some, highschool was the worst four years of their lives. I’m sure that as a teenager it all seems that much more heightened because you have such a limited amount of life experience to compare it to. Tempers flare, jealousy abounds… As a kid, things don’t seem fair. It felt like I had no control in my own life.
I can tell you… My control was limited – AS IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN.
However, it isn’t as if I am carrying all of the overexaggerated baggage with me now. Had the four years of highschool been my worst, I have let it go. Life goes on and if the meetup gave me any insight, it’s that school wasn’t life. Yes it consumes a few years of your adolescence and you can’t always make the most of it, but the people that really and truly made your life a “living hell” fall through the cracks.
I guess it’s the perverted side of me that wondered which of the people from school lost their hair or gained two dozen pounds. All that matters to me is that I am mostly happy with my life. When I’m not, I realize that it is just a moment. Life is too short to take anything that seriously. I actually read a journal entry I wrote in highschool where I described how much someone had hurt me and how lonely I was. Remembering that time, it was weeks later that I found and made friends that are still a part of my life.
Those that I lost touch with I don’t carry ill-will towards. In fact, with all of the social sites now I have reconnected with some of them. Many of them remain a background to the follies of youth and I regret none of it.
I remember private messaging with one of my grade school chums and admitting that I was so jealous that she was in this select group of people and I wasn’t. She then admitted that she was jealous that I was in the other group. It’s madness really. Carrying that jealousy for a decade isn’t healthy.
That being said, no one that came to the gathering had lost their hair or gained an absurd amount of weight. Color me disappointed.