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Sunday, February 07, 2010


Exhausted. But can't sleep. Arrrgh.


wingless was still breathing at 9:00 PM - 0 comments

Friday, November 13, 2009

oh crap

So. My test is officially less than a month away now and I am starting to shift into full-panic gear. Or I'm getting there anyway. This did not prevent me from opting for hitting the bar rather than hitting the books after work yesterday, but well, what can I say? I am addicted to procrastination.

I had my first nightmare about all of this the other night. I dreamt that I had about twenty days left til test day (oh wait...) AND I had a bunch of finals to take. Which I hadn't studied for yet either. And I actually hadn't been to two of the classes all quarter and had therefore missed all the midterms which meant I was conceivably already failing those courses. Which I needed in order to graduate.

It was one of those dreams where you wake up with this feeling of horror and it takes a few minutes to realize that not only do you not have finals, you're not even in school anymore. Except then I remembered the whole CFA in less than a month thing and that tightness in my chest came right back just like that.

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wingless was still breathing at 8:55 PM - 0 comments

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Day 4: sleep vs kids

"I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired."

That is from the "Random Thoughts" email that you might or might not have seen going around recently. All of them are funny and true, but that one stuck out at me as sadly true.

Seriously, when was the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired? I honestly don't know. In fact, that thought is probably the one hesitation I have about having kids. I hear stories about new parents and I'm like, er, how is that going to work when I'm already tired all the time?

I do not do well without sleep. Right now I sleep a minimum of seven hours a night and usually get eight. It's not exactly a preference thing, it's a necessity for me, I physically need to get enough sleep or my body literally starts breaking down. Even one or two late nights can result in aching and swollen joints. Not fun.

I guess the reason the human race has managed to survive this long has something to do with the fact that even knowing all of this, the urge to have babies is stronger than my doubts. I am banking on awesome babies that learn to sleep through the night very early in their lives.

That or a husband that doesn't mind night feedings =D

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wingless was still breathing at 7:50 PM - 0 comments

Monday, August 24, 2009

the quiet scares me cause it screams the truth

Sometimes I wonder if my recent mood has less to do with my life and more to do with sleep. Specifically, the fact that I am not getting nearly enough of it.

Actually, that's not true. Technically, I'm getting plenty of sleep. I'm probably averaging seven hours a night, which I know, is probably more sleep than you get (whoever you may be). But the quality of that sleep? Not good. I have lots of dreams. I usually wake up every three hours for no apparent reason, get up to pee because I'm up anyway before slowly drifting back to sleep.

Also, I have a confession to make. I'm totally addicted to Am*bien. I don't take it every day because I know you're not supposed to, but hot damn, if I could I would. I love how it knocks me out and I tend not to wake up in the middle of the night when I take it. But at the same time, I wonder if the sleep I'm getting is quality since I'm always tired nowadays and just don't feel right. Whatever "right" is supposed to be.

I'm thinking of purchasing a digital piano for myself, 88 weighted keys, the whole shibang. I'm thinking that with the stress of life (i.e. my job) I need some sort of emotional outlet so that I can settle down my mind before bed. I haven't lived with a piano in about ten years and at my parents house this weekend I realized I'm sort of forgetting how to read music which is scary because man I put a lot of years into learning that crap. So if I can figure out where the hell to cram in a digital piano into our tiny, overstuffed studio, I think I'm going to go for it.

Yet another distraction from studying for the CFA. Just what I need.

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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

giving midnight snack a new meaning

Reading through my posts lately, and the things I've felt like writing but haven't, I wonder, how the eff did I become this person? This total downer that's always complaining and thinking that as long as I throw in the caveat "I have a lot to be grateful but..." that it's okay to just rail about life?

When did this happen to me? Or wait, have I always been this grumpy? Paul and I have this running joke that we've become that grumpy old couple on the porch, shaking their fists at "those young kids at their loud music" way before our time. The mental image is funny, but it's not really a joke.

Last night I had this very clear dream. Like most dreams it didn't make a whole lot of sense, but reflecting on it this morning it's meaning seems obvious.

I was at my parents home, in my sister's room which has a walk-in closet and I wanted to take a shower. Naturally, the closet has a shower inside so I walk in and find a shower head amongst all my mom and sister's dresses. Naturally. Anyway, there was a cat that looked a lot like my cat sitting in a pile of clothes but even in my dream it didn't make sense to me that there was a cat there (the shower in the closet though? made perfect sense. go figure). I remember thinking it must be a hallucination so I reached out to pet the cat and it clamped down and bit my hand and wouldn't let go. I knew Paul was just outside the door so I started yelling for him to come help me and he rushed in and pried the cat off my hand. Then the cat disappeared and everything went fuzzy and I asked him what happened and he told me that I had been biting my own hand. I looked down and saw human bite marks, really deep impressions across the top of my hand.

At first I wondered if maybe Taz had actually bit me for some reason in the middle of the night. Then Paul said maybe it means I'm afraid of someone close to me betraying me because I love cats, which, I love him but...?

I'm going with a more literal interpretation...which is I had to rely on someone else to keep me from gnawing my own hand off. My subconscious is telling me to quit being so damn self-destructive.

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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

dusty pages

Last night I had a dream about you. To be accurate - it was more of a nightmare. I woke up sobbing and feeling so lost and betrayed and it took me a few minutes to make sense of the confusion I felt when I first woke.

Honestly, I'm still kind of confused. Because I really don't know what brought it on.

I don't know why you were in my dream as you have long since become only a faded chapter of a book I once read...and yet there you were making me feel so hurt and abandoned once again.

Weird. Unsettling.

I'm not the type to wish for things in the past to change. For one thing, it's silly and pointless, and for another thing I know that without the past I probably wouldn't be where I am now, which is somewhere I like very much. But this morning when I woke up I wish the part of my life you were written on was a dry erase board and someone would hand me a wet cloth.

Luckily I was able to snuggle up against my hubby and go back to sleep, this time it was a peaceful sleep.

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Thursday, May 28, 2009

it was titled "let's see if this ever sees the light of day"

This morning I woke up with this horrible feeling. Like I had taken sleeping pills and then blogged something all woe-is-me-wah-boo-hoo. Even though I was already late for work, I quickly checked my website before running out the door and was quite relieved to see that I hadn't posted anything. Still, I went through my day and couldn't shake the feeling that I had done something on the internet last night in an Ambien daze.

Lo and behold when I get home this afternoon and check blogger, there it is in draft form. A rambling post about how I am too surrounded by negativity and need to be more positive and find peace in my life. Go back to the Lord. And also why the Cavs will never fire Mike Brown as long as they have LeBron James to make him look good (even though they so totally should fire Mike Brown and it is a freakin' travesty that he got COY).

I think I'm going to quit taking sleeping pills since they apparently, um, fail to actually put me to sleep? Go figure.

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wingless was still breathing at 3:37 PM - 0 comments

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

This should not be a long post. It should not. I am drugged up (Ambien), it's 9pm (I have to get up at 5am). Paul is out partying it up on St. Patty's day and I am here with the kitty and we are both kind of drugged up since she's recovering from having her teeth cleaned this morning.

The other day I went to work and the ambien had not fully worked it's way out of my system and I was apparently typing incoherent nonsense at my coworkers for several hours. So if this appears to be just some completely psychotic line of thinking feel free to ignore me. On the other hand, I feel like I have something to say.

I just want to know why. Why my life can be fine and why I can still be suffocating under this relentless fear. The older I get the more I start to think that this is just how life goes. There is never a moment to sigh peacefully and feel....like everything is fine the way it is and will stay that way forever. It's like being lost at sea in a violent storm...sure you can pull your head up for a few minutes and breathe, maybe grab onto some debris floating by, but soon enough, you're once again just trying to keep your head above water so you can breathe.

Lately I lie to myself. I say, "Self, if you could just get yourself healthy enough to have a baby next year then everything will be ok." Which I know this is ridiculous. I want to get healthy not just to have a baby but for me, but having a baby is not going to help me shake off what I've come to accept is just who I am.

It's me. Yeah well I can't get myself to go away.

I mostly hate that I'm back here again. Same spot, totally different circumstances. I have so many reasons to be happy and thankful. Amazing husband, good job, a nice apt in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. By all accounts I should be quite happy with my life. And yet I still feel like I'm working towards something - or rather that I should be working towards something. And so the relative non-movement as of late has me feeling a bit...stuck.

What does my life mean? What is it supposed to mean? And how can I make it mean what it was meant to mean? And why are the sentences I'm writing so ridiculous.

This is what happens when you give me sleeping pills, a computer and a thirty minute window for the pills to take full effect. Somehow it felt like the right thing to do.

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wingless was still breathing at 8:57 PM - 1 comments

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