Something is wrong with me.
Seriously.
Point of support the first:
I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been over a week since I’ve gotten regular sleep.
I stay up all night and do nothing productive. And then I sometimes sleep during the day, if at all. I tried correcting this by going to bed at a normal time, but alas, I didn’t fall asleep until well past 5 A.M. Last night, I also tried to stay up all night, and the all day today so that I could sleep at night…That was unsuccessful when I fell asleep around 6 A.M. Woke an hour later to get the little man ready for school, and then fell back asleep once he was gone until the early afternoon.
So that’s the sleep issue. I’m not even going to get into the fucked up dreams I’ve been having.
My days are ridiculous, several days blend into one, and one day seems like weeks to me.
I am Jack’s sleep disorder.
Point of support the second:
Men. Well. What can I say? I’ll just leave it at the fact that I apparently go for the strange, mildly manipulative, disturbed and sometimes somewhat psychotic genre. I’ve only recently realized that it’s a unatural attraction to them that I can’t stop. No wonder all my ex-boyfriends should be in prison.
I’ve met quite a few men in the past few weeks, and all of them were not quite right. Some were odd but cute and respectable in that bohemian-environmentalist-anti-politics-activist-musician-with-daddy-issues kind of way. Others were the type you would expect to see running around in trench coats and tin foil hats in the very near future. Others had some issues that needed to be dealt with, in their past, in their present, problems that I wanted nothing to do with. I didn’t maintain interest in any of them for much longer then a day(In some cases it could also mean that the alcohol wore off).
I’ve relinquished all responsibility when it comes to men. I no longer have a say in who I pursue. I’ve given that responsibility to good friends. (And should I find one on my own, they have orders to carefully and scrupulously monitor everything.)
I am Jack’s commitment-phobia.
Point of support the third:
Last night, last sleepless night, I went on a cleaning spree. Which is not that big of a deal, it happens to me, I clean to de-stress sometimes. But the fact is that I got a little bit neurotic about it. I started running around my apartment, realized that maybe I could move my desk into another area to open up my living room. I then used painting tape to map out the carefully measured dimensions of my desk to see if it was feasible. It is. I left it there, today, for a second, non-sleep-deprived opinion. I was told no. So the desk stays where it is.
I then jumped around my living room head banging and playing air guitar.
Smashed some recycling. Brought out my garbage in a white plastic bag at 3 A.M. Brought my garbage back in and put it in a dark garbage bag because I thought the left over tomato sauce that I had thrown out looked too much like blood and didn’t want to scare the neighbours. Brought my garbage back out.
I then debated moving my living room furniture around. But I live in an upstairs apartment and decided against giving my downstairs neighbour a heart failure caused by the conviction of the onslaught of the apocalypse.
Then, I watched a movie for the third time in 2 days. (Fight Club. Which will explain all the “I am Jack’s whatever”. If you haven’t seen it, watch it. Now.) And fell asleep at 6 A.M, mid-movie(which I finished today).
I am Jack’s O.C.D./A.D.D.
Point of support the fourth:
I’m actually anxious for Christmas.
For the past few years, I’ve had a secret unstoppable well hidden contempt for the holiday. See, when I was little, the house would fill up with family that I wouldn’t see all year, and there would be a lack of places to sit, and the air would get hot and dry, and the music would get drowned out by loud conversation, you’d have a headache before dinner time, it was hard to move because of all the people, you could never get into the bathroom, you were always running to get drinks and whatnot for aunts and uncles who had actually found a spot to sit and weren’t giving it up, the rooms filled with the smell of sweat and too much cologne and perfume, the dress my parents would put me in was always itchy, and I could never get away to go play with the new toys or games I had gotten. And I loved every minute of it.
That’s what Christmas is to me. And unfortunately, over the years, with many family members passing away, and most getting too busy with their own lives, the children getting older, jobs and other commitments making travel difficult, we’ve lost all that. Christmas has turned into a small affair, a small sad, forced affair.
But this year, for some reason, for the first time in years, I’m looking forward to it. I even downloaded Christmas music and played it, and I’m debating starting to decorate and plan the menu. (Because, you see, Christmas is my “responsibility” this year.)
I am Jack’s holiday spirit.
I have enough here to write an essay. Speaking of which, I do have to write an essay. But, to mention another problem, I have a complete lack of motivation. Despite the fact that I finally found what I want to do with my life, I can’t help but not care. I can’t help but not care about what’s assigned, not care about the fact that I’m actually failing half my classes(it’s not as bad as it sounds, I only have 4 classes).
I am Jack’s wasted school year.
Well, here we are again, it’s 4:30 A.M, and I’m not tired. I’ll try to sleep but I probably won’t be able to until the sun rises. And then, I’ll have to wake up.
I am Jack’s sarcastic joy.
