It’s official

I have insomnia.  And I can’t blame the squirrels this time.

My sleeping has been pretty deficient this month, but now it’s getting harder to count the hours.  Yesterday, it was three (two plus one); this morning, just one.  And let me tell you: you can’t really function on one hour of sleep.

Sure, you can get a little buzzed from sleep deprivation, and my memory recall somehow improves in a few areas due to lowered inhibitions.  But my eyes look and feel like crap.

“Coffee Guy”, MADtv

I’m still yawning.  But I’m not sleeping.  Ya get into bed; minutes, hours pass, and you’re still conscious.  You could call that rest, but it’s not particularly useful rest.  You could be doing something else than just lying in bed.  And when you do manage to sleep, there’s a bit of overhead when it comes to REM sleep that a series of short naps don’t cut it.

Sometimes that trick I realized of letting your mind wander into dreamland works.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  I know there are other tricks.  God forbid I need sleeping meds.

This morning, after prepping for bed, signing out, and putting my phone into airplane mode and under my pillow, I closed my eyes.  After 45 minutes… yeah, still awake.  So I spent a little time “web surfing,” “organizing,” and eventually went outside.  (Exercise can help.)

(Jul 26 8:27 a.m.)

I discovered that some of the leaves outside are already yellowing.

I also found out that, by the ludicrous internal date for the photo, I neglected to set the time zone on the iPhone.  Some days ago (these days are kind of a blur now, so I don’t remember the date), the battery mysteriously ran out on the iPhone, after only a few days without charging.  (My guess is that an app, such as the sound recorder, was left open.)  The world clock on the phone is three minutes behind.  Considering the house has no WiFi to update the world clock, I set the clock manually.  But I didn’t notice the Beijing time zone.  So the dates captioned for photos in blog posts since that date have been 12 hours ahead.  Sorry.

The final photo of the now-deceased wildflower by the side of the house. (Jul 22 7:41 p.m. a.m.)

My writing quality now is… not quality writing.  I’ve been told that quality comes from the inside.  And so I need sleeeeep.

Before I go, I will note that yesterday was mildly interesting for a number of reasons.  But it’s kind of a post in itself because I took over 50 photos.  I’m too tired to put it together now.  Hopefully, after publishing this, I can try to get some sleeeeep.

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Restless with a side of crazy

(Jul 20 7:19 a.m.)

My sleeping has taken a turn for the worse.  I’m getting two to four hours more often.  And it’s not due to the news.  It’s this squirrel in the roof, scratching, damaging the ceiling above my bed… and that’s after the fact that my quality of sleep has been poor with the bed already since 2014.  This house, this environment, the isolation, for years, and it gets worse like this.  I mean, animals actively keeping you awake in the ongoing process of your home being destroyed.  It is such a breaking point, how much I can’t live here.

(Jul 20 7:20 a.m.)

Passiveness be damned.  I went outside.

#GraySkyMonday

(4:52 p.m.)

Today was… dull.  Like a generalized mixture, a convergence of color on a macro scale; it revealed a sort of… lack of focus, or blind inclusion, to the point of no clear point.  But I stretched my brain, stretching time into the morning.  I exercised my fingers on the keyboard, and fell into catching up on a few things; without an effort searching, I found some good reading.  But otherwise, there was lots and lots of silence, further marking my days as a involuntary loner.

It took a short while to get a good shot for the image above— back and forth; the camera and its software desaturates the darker areas, rendering pine trees gray. …Desaturating the day further, it began to snow.

(6:13 p.m.)

Big puffy clusters of flash-frozen H20 fell from above, partially covering the immediate landscape.  I held out my left hand to be sure it was the kind of precipitation I thought it was; one, two puffs of snow melted on my somewhat calloused left palm— hardened from resting my weight on my hands over the course of years of sorting files and reading.

(6:57 p.m.)

The ground whitened in an hour.  Somehow the leafless path was mostly bare when I returned outside after eight at night.  Outside, the precipitation became rain, considering it hit the ground audibly.  The temperature was above freezing (37°F at 10:52 p.m.), the gutters actively passing runoff.

Despite the pain of a medical condition, I managed to complete my walk time for the day.  But the dullness remains.  I find myself again responding to the uneventful hours by staying up well into the morning, expending energy without gain.  I have every reason to be tired, and I am.  But I push on, present when no one else is… The curse of a longing and insecure free will.

Summer Photos

A few weeks into Summer, here, in North America; temperatures have entered the 80s (Fahrenheit) in Maine, and over 100 toward the West coast—even the North, enough to make it hard to imagine there being any snow in Fargo right now…

The season didn’t kick off very warm, though.  It rained June 22.

Cutting the strain

Today, I saw the tally: following 72 blogs, some abandoned, and some of which post more than one a day.  And while it still doesn’t feel like enough, it is too much for me.

Doomed

It’s do or die time. …And I can’t quite do anymore.  So I’m dying.

I did, however, use my image editing skills to fill a hole that appeared on the bottom-right for the image above, a hole produced in rotating it… That took too long.  Much the same went with the No One Can Save You image, though all four corners were filled with that one.  This time I performed some color correction so the image would check out in HSV mode.

Yeah, so I’m a fraud.  I don’t experience things, I preoccupy myself.  I procrastinate.  I embellish nonsense.  I flatter with imitation, and I play video games…and cheat in said video games.

And now my body is falling apart faster than ever.  Without respite, my brain doesn’t work.  My imagination isn’t there, and my dreams are easily forgotten.  Factor in that non-life experience, and how the @$%# can I write?

Writers have words that need to come out.  The words desperate to come out of me now are: “get me the hell out of here.”

Impossibly black coffee

There’s little left of me to call myself anything anymore.

…So if we were having coffee, I would be a completely different person, because I don’t drink coffee.  The same goes with being a writer; that’s really not me.  If that’s even possible.

Now, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, and I bet you haven’t, I tore myself away from blogging to complete Doom 64 again, start to finish.

…

Okay, it’s 2 p.m. Sunday here.  Pray that I don’t die in my sleep.  Nah, I’ll live.  More miserable and blind than ever.  Good night.

Zombie Tweep

Being up at four in the morning sucks.  When you’ve nothing to do, and nothing to read, and no one’s up, and you cannot sleep.  It sucks.

And over time, you just know all those wasted minutes will add up in the course of your life.  It sucks.  And now you’re checking back on twitter.

A Storm to Remember, now November

It’s Movember— I mean, November, the next month.
’Better get crackin’ on manually reading those other blogs I can’t follow ’cause my reader’s swamped.  ’Good thing I stuffed a bunch of URLs into a single text file, right?  And if Homeland Security misunderstands my use of ‘dirty bomb,’ …I guess I’m screwed ’cause I can’t afford a good attorney.

What was this post supposed to be about, again?
…Oh, yeah, detailing as much as I can, the past couple of days.  Le sh*tstorm.

Oh, and Spank Material for the Clinically Insane has reached Chapter 6.