It’s 4:30 am. Scratch that, 5:30 am (the Kindle apparently hadn’t been updated to reflect the current change in daylight savings time). I’m wide awake, much to my chagrin. I fell asleep early, too early it seems. I’ve been struggling with this issue lately. Waking up at odd hours, a head full of racing thoughts. I can’t blame my brain for trying to find time to sort it all out. Every since I got back from Texas, I have been absorbing everything I can. Trying to find answers to vintage questions. I’ve been reading books, articles, blogs, YouTube tutorials, you name it. My days are officially filled to the brim with absorbing all it can handle. Today brought the sensation that can only be described as ‘my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head.’ Whether that’s a nod towards hard work, or a result of burn out, I’m still undecided.
It feels like I’m against the clock. So many projects to finally get done, so many to even start. In a nutshell my daily activities have gone like this: chipping away at learning (better quality) video editing, writing on the daily, figure out my brand, talking to a therapist on the daily, finding actual employment, trying to be serious about taking over the family business, at least 3 budget worksheets, habit worksheets, keeping up with running, finding my ‘passion’, and of course taking care of my poor overweight fur baby. I’ve been reading how people have found success by putting in long hours of hard work to make the stuff they’re passionate about pan out. But then I’ve also read that ‘who needs goals’, and it will work itself out without expectations. I’ve read loneliness is the opposite of contentment, which is somehow reached by reading a book that tells you all the deep down reasons you have actually been lonely you’re whole life. Perhaps the author will mention a potential cure for ‘spiritual bankruptcy’, but with half the book read, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.
I continue to toss in this god awful hard bed. I much prefer the futon, the floor even, but the ruler of the house has spoken. I am to report to the back bedroom nightly.
Not that I don’t appreciate the indoor accommodations, but this room certainly does not hold the fondest of vibes.
The clock is chiming again. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding. Officially 3 hours of laying in a place indented for activities much better than this. I can hear Indy tossing on the floor to my left. Deep sighs and lip smacks resonate up from a more comfortable place. I can’t help but feel his annoyance to my insomnia. He probably liked the truck better too.
As per usual, looks like I’ll be up for another hour before my body taps out. It seems to enjoy this middle-of-the-night awakening for a few hours, before realizing it actually wants sleep after all. I suppose I’ll just lay here, surmising how my mind has the wherewithal to digest all the things I inevitably fill it with, and remember the cold, quiet nights alone by the Kentucky river, where I’d be just going to bed for the night.
