I am one. And I feel like that guy up there. Seriously. I'm 30 minutes into my Melatonin/Joshua Bell regimen, and my eyes aren't even CLOSE to being heavy. Wtf, brain. W.t.f.
I mean, I can totally understand that my life at this point in time isn't entirely conducive to relaxation and restful slumber, but still. I'm even medicated, and it's with something my body ALREADY makes to help induce sleep. Oy. This is ridiculous.
I've even taken to lifespeaking my brains out to my friends (see previous blog post) in an apparently vain effort to organize my thoughts and clear my head enough to sleep. No dice. It's just not fair. I wish my brain had a "bedside mode" like my crackberry, Wyatt*. Totally dims the lights and silences itself during the night. That would be AWESOME.
Bah. This is bull crap. My brain is seriously running at around 90 mph and my body is struggling to keep up. This whole identity crisis that I've got going on these days about skoolnstuf (it's a blanket term slash mash-up word. school and stuff: skoolnstuf) is going to do me in. This crisis is actually big enough that I'm going to ask all of you (my faithful readers) to name it for me. Name it anything you like. There will be a prize for the winner. Seriously. Get on it, folks.
But seriously, seriously. How many times have I said "seriously" in this post? I feel like I say it too often for it to hold any emphasis, anymore. Anyway, (I say that one a lot, too. Haha alot.) if something doesn't change, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, other than...something crazy. Something wild. Something EXTREME. Something INSAAAAAAAANE. Like taking up yoga. Or songwriting. Or crocheting. Who knows, I MAY EVEN TAKE UP CROSSWORD PUZZLES! I'M A MAN ON THE EDGE; THERE'S NO TELLING WHAT THE LIMIT TO MY CRAZY WILD EXTREME INSANE BEHAVIOR WILL BE!! What was it that Romeo said on the steps to the cathedral when confronted by the po-po after killing Tybalt? "TEMPT NOT A DESPERATE MAN!!!"? I think that was it. I dunno. All I can picture is a much younger Leo crying in an awkward manner while his shirt is being blown about, displaying his pasty torso in an equally awkward manner. Man, I love that movie. Speaking of that movie, I can play this song on the piano. It sounds kinda like this. It makes Sister One and Sister Two swoon when I play it for them. Seriously. (See, there I go again. It's totally lost all effect, now.)
Anyway, back to the yak-ness of my life. If something doesn't change soon, I think I'm just gonna explode. That sounds like a cure-all, to me. When life gets to be too much, just blow up. Problem solved! As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to invent a self-explosion kit for that very purpose. Except, I'm going to call it something dirty, just because I can, and everyone likes a seemingly harmless (sans the blood and gore and body parts flying everywhere) invention with a dirty name. What do you think of the Blowmatic? Or maybe the...I dunno. I suck at naming seemingly harmless (sans the blood and gore and flying body parts) inventions dirty names. I'm just too nice, I guess. I'll let you guys name the self-exploder, too.
Anyway, (Seriously, Michael?) I think I'm gonna wrap this puppy up and lie in bed until sheer exhaustion claims me for a couple hours. And then I get to go to work in my personal version of Hell. Doesn't that sound FUN? -Yeah, Michael, that sounds like a fuggin blasty-blast. Quit drowning your readers in sarcasm, thanks.- I guess that's all for now. Be sure to comment with any thoughts or questions, as you guys are quite the silent group of bloggies, and that just makes me feel like you don't care. And I'm all about being liked, so y'all better start caring, darn it! "I'm like Tinkerbell, Finn. I NEED APPLAUSE TO LIVE." Name that show, and I'll buy you a drink next time I see you. Seriously.
Okay, friends, I believe I'm done for the night. Until next time, don't forget to smile, and always tip your bartender.
Bonne nuit!
Michael Dean
P.S. Tave, consider yourself invited to Glebo. This Thursday. Yes, please and thanks.
M* I name all of my electronic devices after Tombstone characters. Crackberry: Wyatt. iPod: Doc iHolliday. Old-school palm pilot: Ike. Laptop: The Lappy. I ran out of cool Tombstone names...
If you would have said name that movie, I would have guessed the Peter Pan, the one with Robin Williams. However that is a fail. Because she is tinkerbell, not like tinkerbell. Fail.
ReplyDeleteDid you get a new Tahoe?!? Just a question....Not too tied into this post.
ReplyDeleteSince I am the one who gave Amy the melatonin that is clearly not working for you....(tear..sniff) I will tell you another corny way that I make myself go to sleep. I think about cartoons that I used to watch when I was little. Flintstones are usually the ones that will take me into a nice slumber...I think about Fred yelling at Wilma and pepples and bam bam....you get the idea. So tonight try that....try to not think about all of the things that are worrying you in life and resort back to childhood and pick a favorite cartoon and replay an episode in your head....it works for me :) Don't laugh, you said you wanted to hear us bloggies speak---you just may never know what might come out.
ReplyDeleteps. thursday in Glebo---I am SO in!!
--tave