Day Walkers Take Heed

I have a bad habit of sleeping my days away. Or, rather, others perceive my habit as being bad. Until recently, I’ve never had any problems with what I’ve assumed is just my natural, albeit screwy, schedule.

Alas, job hunting is not easily accomplished in the dead of night. So, I switched my schedule. I’ve been getting up during the day like a good little Sun Zombie. As always when I switch my schedule, I’ve also been afflicted with horrible insomnia. I’ll sleep two hours in two days and still have trouble convincing myself to go to bed after 19 hours of wakefulness. If find myself jolting awake at the slightest of sounds, heart pounding, and floating in and out of consciousness for every pair of headlights that pass my window.

This hardly makes any sense. When I sleep during the day there is obviously day-noise that never wakes me up. I’ve slept through construction and car accidents, my loudest friends and the deepest bass lines.

I can only think of one explanation, which is, I am a very anxious person. I have anxiety disorder with agoraphobia, so this isn’t a new revelation coming to light. Even normally nerve-ed people get edgy at night. When I sleep during the day, people are wondering about near me, ready to alert me to or fight off any threats. At night, when every person except people like myself or ax-murderers are asleep, I’m awake and ready to scream, run, and/or bash over the head any intruders with the nearest heavy object.

Now I wonder, does this make me a productive member of society? I’m the night guard, the alarm, the graveyard shift look-out. I’m looking out the window every time the wind blows, nothing criminal or suspicious is getting past me. Tornado warning at four am? I’m there, making sure everyone doesn’t get blown to Oz. Midnight zombie invasion? I’m the first one ready with a baseball bat and and zombie repellent.

So, the next time someone wants to chastise me for sleeping until six or seven o’clock in the evening, remember my strange sleeping habits could save your life.

Graveyard ♥

Some pics of the cemetery nearest my house. I can’t resist spreading the graveyard love.

I just finished American Gods. It was amazing. Neil Gaiman has definitely cemented himself as my favorite writer. I’m going to have to let the book settle in my mind for a while before I can be certain it’ll be my favorite, but it has a good chance.

I’ve been up for the last 35 some hour periods, taking hour long nap-intervals. Napervals. It’s worked fine and I’ve felt good all day, but now I seem to have developed a throbbing headache. That means it’s time for another nap.

Boring Post is Boring

Boring day, for the most part, but pleasant. Watched the Olympics, ran around with Re, watched my mom’s cats kill a grasshopper – a huge, vicious grasshopper (it attacked me), then watched the US Women’s Gymnastics Team. They were so close!

I truely feel bad for that girl. It wasn’t just her, I know, but does she? She’s probably going to wonder her whole life if they could have got the gold if she hadn’t messed up. That kind of thing over your head? It sucks.

I wrote a bit, at some point, but then my computer restarted and I lost half of my timeline. That’s what I get for not saving every five seconds.

Dreams are the unfiltered self

Wouldn’t it be lovely if there were a place where all sorts of different religious people could go to worship their various religions, but still be in the same place? Sort of like a giant mall O’religions? Were people can freely mix and try to learn to understand each others similarities and accept the differences?

Perhaps there could be a nice sized library where the non-religious and reason-minded could spend their time. The place could have connections with different organizations of different faiths and creed, and they could all work together to try and make the world slightly better. It could have connections with woman’s shelters and charities, with a large enough following to provide volunteers to teach the illiterate and uneducated, provide safety and asylum, and a peaceful environment for anyone with the need for it.

Each religion could have times where the openly hold services and demonstrate their beliefs. There could be seminars about science. All open and free to the public.

And there would be a tea shop.

Aw, gnats!

My bedroom smells like vinegar and blue dish soap. I suppose this is better than decay and rot, but I still wish it smelled like “fresh linen” or “mountain lavender” or something. At one point it smelled sweetly of raspberries. But no, vinegar.

I shouldn’t complain. It’s my own fault (and somewhat my husband’s) that I let the apartment get trashy. I walk through the house afraid they’re going to swarm and kill me, like in The Sims 2.

The vinegar and dish soap method has worked miracles.  There’s a little insect tar pit o’death in one of the cute  light house tea cups my mother-in-law gave me.  I even caught a few big house flies.

But the smell is still tragic.

First Post Blues

I don’t really know what to say here. I’ve had a livejournal for ages, but it doesn’t seem like I should write the same thing in two different places.

I guess I’ll start with what I’m reading, which is Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. It’a a great book. Neil Gaiman’s writing style is so smooth, it’s like a slip & slide.

I’m dying for some tea. Jasmine tea.