Insomnia

My job has a very odd shift. I work at two-thirty in the afternoon. This would seem to be awesome on paper, as me sleeping in is a gross abuse of the term. I mean, who can't make it in to work in the afternoon? It's not like I have any kind of grounds for an excuse if I'm somehow late for two freakin' thirty in the afternoon! "Uhh, I um... slept in." That just wouldn't wash...Unfortunately, it's really thrown my sleep schedule out of whack. I'm really not tired late at night or in the early morning anymore when I should be sleeping. I mean, theoretically, if I wanted eight hours of sleep (which is overly generous) and still wanted some wiggle room, I could sleep at four a.m. and wake up by noon. And so, I find myself doing a lot of thinking late at night, looking at my life, looking at myself, and whiling away the time with various entertainments (of which I have a lot, trust me) My backlog of amusements is so bad I forget what I have sometimes and never get around to watching this DVD or playing that game. I waste more time debating what to do than actually doing it some nights. Presently, I'm munching my way through a box of Girl Guide cookies. I wasn't paying attention in the mall and got cornered, and how can you say no to a little kid in a uniform? Vile pixies blink their puppy dog eyes and the next thing you know you're walking away with six boxes. Brilliant marketing strategy if ever there was one..do you want to refuse them in public? Suddenly mothers are pelting you with rotten vegetables and little old ladies are whacking the heartless man's shins with their canes. I think I avoid sleep as much as possible because when it does come, it's rarely ever restful. The dreams come, and they fade away so quickly upon waking, but the vaguely unsettling feeling in my gut tells me they weren't about fields of cotton candy and rivers of spice. At least I don't have an ulcer yet, so far as I know (knock on wood).

Oh Brother...

Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. He is twenty-seven, and that makes my thirty seem all the wearier...it's a cliche but the time certainly does fly. It seems like just the other day he was a little baby robbing my three-and-a-1/2 year old self of precious attention. To reward himself, this morning he went to his first outdoor paint-ball excursion, though it's definitely not his first time to dance by any means, they've just all been indoors up to this point. Apparently, it's a very different experience. He spent quite a lot of time preparing his gear "for deployment", as he says. Over the past month and a half or so, he's become quite the paint-ball ubersonderkommando. For this special occasion, he bought a crapload of gun upgrades intended to increase his lethality (at least on paper). From his account, it appears that he got his ass pwned big time. I don't imagine running around the green and brown woods in midnight black fatigues had anything to do with it. Needless to say, he will be investing in some decent camo gear very soon. But he had a lot of fun, and the weather cooperated with a really beautiful day, so at least he got the fun and the exercise. Later that evening, we went to Montana's for dinner but I didn't have that much of an appetite. It looks like beef rib leftovers for work tomorrow...Anyway, his present obsession has gone so far as to purchase an official Tony Hawk helmet cam to tape his games. As soon as I get my hands on it, I can think of all sorts of fun and practical applications. For example, I could tape it to my head and record my typical day in a very documentary, cinema verite tone. Or I could mount it on my dashboard and record a drive somewhere, oh, like work or the mall. Then I could post these undoubtedly boring videos on YouTube and be ever so famous...hmm, if only I could fasten it to a very large bird and let it go, only I suppose there'd be the issue of retrieving the camera. The large family of Canada geese at work would do. I hate it when they decide to march their family across the only access road in a very long, drawn-out single file line. I mean, I'm not so heartless as to run them over, you know. But they're sooo slow, just ambling across with all the time in the world. They're not even afraid of you in your car. Ah, those wacky antics of theirs...