Friday, March 25, 2005

That was a cruel trick!

It's 9:17am. Good Friday. I'm awake. It's a cruel trick my body plays on me.

Normally I haul my tired behind out of bed in just enough time to get ready for work and get to work. It's a good thing I live only a little over a mile from work. Yesterday I turned my alarm off and apparently went back to sleep. So, I was majorly late for work. Not a problem because I can pretty much make my own schedule.

By the holiday calender at work we get Good Friday off or another day in the following 2 weeks. Because we are not closed for business today. So, I was almost giddy with joy at the thought of sleeping inthis morning. Guess what time I woke up? Just guess? Yep, 7:30!!!! The time I'm supposed to wake up. Why?

It's such a cruel joke to have the day off & not be able to sleep in.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005


Sleeping is simple, right? I mean you eat your dinner and do your nightly routine. You get into bed and close your eyes and fall asleep. Right?

Nope. For some reason, I don't sleep. I'm averaging 3-4 hours a sleep a night. I need about 8. Therein lies the problem.

I've tried EVERYTHING I can think of, everything I've been told, everything I've researched. Nothing seems to make a difference. I used to think that my sleep routine got interuptted and it would get back on track and I'd be ok. For a while. That used to happen about 1 week every month. But it's gradually worsened.

One of two things happens. Sometimes I'm tried (well really, I'm always tired as you might imagine) and I fall asleep between 9pm - 10pm. But I wake up shortly after midnight and I'm awake until about 6am. Then I fall asleep until my alarm goes off at 7am and pray for the ability to roll over and sleep some more. Other times, I just plain cannot fall asleep. I'm awake until about 4:30am - 5am. By that time I'm exhausted and fall asleep until my alarm goes off at 7 and again I pray for the ability to roll over and go back to sleep.

I've...cut out caffine, set up a routine & followed it, not watched TV in the bedroom, read books to relax, taken warm baths, I write down my thoughts to get "rid" of them, gotten up and done other things (like blog!), sipped sleepytime tea, taken melatonin....ARGGGG!

I've tried everyting I can think of. It's gotten to the point that I need to see the doctor about it. I don't want to add another medication to my daily life, but I can't go on the 3 hours of sleep a day. I need my brain to shut off to sleep 7-8 hours.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

High School is not what it used to be

In high school I worried about whether or not some boy liked me as much as I liked him. I worried about getting a ride to school from Candace so I wouldn't have to ride the bus. I worried about whether or not Diane was mad at me for some stupid reason. I never worried about some classmate shooting me.

There's been another school shooting. Another one.

I'm not sure when the whole idea of this came about. I'm unclear how it went from beating up someone who you didn't like or weren't friends with to deciding to shoot them. Even more so, shoot them and those who just happen to be standing around them when you decide to shoot. What happened to change that?

I realize that when the media presents these stories they are usually accompanied by statements that suggest that the shooter was bullied by classmates and felt that there was no other choice. There were bullies in my day too. Are they that much worse that shooting is the only way out? And I can't help but ask what's going on in this child's home that prevents their family from knowing how bad it is at school.

I've also noticed that none of these shooters seem to be girls. What's going on between girls and boys? Do teenaged girls handle bullying differently than boys? Do teenaged girls have some kind of emotional or mental capacity to handle bullying in a better way than boys?

I don't know that I'll ever have answers to the questions. All I know is that more children are dead.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

I cannot stand to see others cry

I've never figured out why another person crying makes me cry. After so many instances of people in my personal life crying for one reason or another, I've chalked it up to my sensitivity. I think that I place myself in that person's shoes and know that what they are crying about would make me cry too.

Someone made my Dad cry.

You have to know my Dad to understand how that impacts me. He's been through his share in life. Grew up in the 50's and 60's on a farm with a father who was at the least strict, at the most, terrifying. My Dad got married young, had children young and grew up with us kids. He worked his way up in his job, struggled financially to be secure later in life.

3 years ago he lost about 70 pounds in about 9 months. It became abundantly clear to everyone else that he was sick. He refused to see a doctor. Each of us, in our own way and in our own time pleaded with him to see a doctor and find out what was wrong. Finally he did. I think it was my aunt dying that made him realize how short life is. He would later tell someone that he was fearful of seeing a doctor because he thought he was dying and didn't want to hear the words. In fact he has an every day disease that it treatable with medications.

I guess I shared that because it demonstrates how stubborn and strong the man is. He's a man who doesn't show emotion easily. He gets mad, but I've only ever seen him really mad a few times in my life. He keeps his emotions in check.

But yesterday he called me. I asked him a question and he couldn't talk because he was crying. Even though there were no audible sounds, I could hear the silent sobs he was making on the other end of the phone line. It made me immediately start to cry.

I really hate to see others around me cry.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Ok, time for a new license

I don't dislike our DPS. Really. I don't dislike the process of getting that new license. Really. And I don't mind paying the fee for the new license. Really.

I'm fearful of my picture. REALLY!

Isn't it every woman's fear? Normally when I take a bad photo it disappears. Into the trash. A driver's license photo however, sticks with you like that gross gum on your shoe from the parking lot. You can scrape that gum off, but there are still little sticky parts on your shoe for a long time to come. That bad license photo hangs out in your wallet for 4 years, waiting to embarass you when you have to show ID.

My current license photo started out pretty good. I had that half hearted smile that looks ok, instead of my usual cheesey grin. But over the course of the years, I've developed what looks like a beard over the majority of my face. It's something in the photo processing - REALLY! I have no beard in real life. I hate to show the thing, although I will, when asked for it.

So wish me luck. Send the photo gods to sit on my shoulder today. I'm wading into the dreaded license renewal center soon.

Friday, March 18, 2005

What's with Louis Lamour?

I don't get it? What's the draw of Louis Lamour?

My Dad (until recently) only read Lamour books. He reads daily, although not quickly. So as you can imagine, he goes through a lot of books in a year. Yet he only read Lamour. How you ask? He read them over and over and over again.

He would read a book and then as he went through the series he would eventually read it again. And for the life of me, I cannot understand it. While there are some books that I have read more than once, there aren't many. While I read quickly, I retain the storyline, it not all the details. The thought of continually reading a book over and over again is like eating the exact same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day. No variety. No new stories.

On the drive home last night he told me that he's found a new author in the the last year. I was surprized. Eventually this new author is the 2nd top rated western writer. But true to form, he's found all this author's books also. And even better, he's reading them for the 2nd time right now!

Thursday, March 17, 2005


I've spent the last week and a few days in Arizona.

Someone once asked me what my favorite place was. I had a hard time coming up with a place that I felt was my favorite. I thought about Alison's bedroom and playing with her. I thought about my bedroom. I thought about my Grandma's house, the familiarity of it is welcoming.

When I really had time to ponder the places that I know, I realized that it was Arizona. I have no demands on me. I have no where to be at a certain time. I can relax without worrying about anything except running out of books to read. I'll say it again, I can relax. Relax. Relax.

I just read 10 books in the time that I was there. I love to read and I rarely get to do it.

I love Arizona.

I've rediscoverd blogging...

I know, long time no see. I don't know what it is, but there are times when I just don't have the energy to write or the time. I used to seek solice in writing my thoughts. But now it seems that it's too much work to write them down.