Sleep Is For The Weak
"You've got cobwebs on your halo. In the closet there are skeletons lined up ready to talk. And they shine."
More trouble sleeping. I despise being unemployed. It should be fun to take some time away from routine, but it's not working out that way. With nothing to get out of bed for, I feel bored and can't find the motivation to use the extra time I suddenly have on my hands to do something constructive. Write a novel, for example. But when I can't even work up the enthusiasm to pen the 3,000 word final chapter of a novella I've enjoyed writing, I'm pretty sure a commitment to 70,000 or so is beyond me.
The idea of The Novel is really starting to bother me. Seems like it's in the back of my mind all the time now, which is one of the reasons why I'm finding it so hard to sleep. I lie there and put my characters in theoretical situations, getting to know them so that when I finally have to bring them to life, the words will write themselves. That's when writing's the most fun, I think, that moment when you realise the world you've created has come to life and you're as much a passenger as your readers. I love it, and I love writing. That's not the problem. My life's the problem, and not even in a bad way. It just feels like there are too many other opportunities I don't want to miss by locking myself away and doing the fingertip boogie over this dirty old keyboard for a couple of months.
All that said, I'm getting frustrated with having this particular endeavour stuck inside my head, and there will come a time - probably in the next month or two - when the blog will slow right down and I'll stop replying to my e-mails. That's when you'll know I've finally pulled my finger out. It'll happen, and when I quit putting it off, I bet I'll sleep like a fucking baby.
Right now, though, at 2:24 in the morning on November 16th, the two things I'm feeling most are nervous and insecure. It's just a couple of days before I fly to California for no other reason than a strange and sweet connection with a girl I still barely know. When you think about it, there are only so many things you can find out about a person in three months of chat, e-mail, and telephone conversations. Those things were enough for me to tempt further debt and buy a plane ticket I really can't afford, but all I can think about now are the possibilities, one of which is a cataclysmic crash and burn.
No, not the plane. Don't even think that. There are only so many horrific outcomes a boy can consider in one day, and ending up plummeting towards a fiery death at about a million miles an hour hasn't even made the list. I laugh in the face of your morbid speculation.
But...what if she doesn't like me in person? What if she doesn't fancy me? I'm not a beautiful, well-hung stud or anything, y'know, just a tall redhead carrying a couple of extra pounds and staring out of a face that folk only usually fall in love with once they get to know me. I've never been one for getting worried about my appearance, but then I've never started to fall for a person before meeting them either. It's a new situation, and I've developed all kinds of new neuroses to go with it.
Ultimately, I know I'll be okay. I wouldn't have bought the ticket in the first place if I thought otherwise. I mean, I have a webcam, she's seen my face (and that's all, you filthy perverts). Even if the reality doesn't turn out to be what she thought it would be, I know more than enough to feel sure we'll be friends. I guess what really horrifies me is the thought that I'll end up hooked on her while she just wants to be friends. Or vice-versa, though there isn't much room in my worry-worn head for that particular scenario. Christ, you've seen that girl's eyes, right? Yeah, me too. At the moment, I see them just about every time I close mine. With a future that involves staring into those, it's no wonder I can't sleep.
But I'm still worried about it. In fact, I'm fucking terrified. Sure, things going wrong would be bad. But what about things going right? Maybe y'all are international jetsetters with heaps of cash and lovers in sixteen different countries. Sure sounds like it from the way you keep telling me not to worry. Don't worry!? It's the other side of the fucking world! five-and-a-half-thousand miles! Seven time zones! You think I do shit like this all the time!? On a whim!? For a girl I've never met!? Aaargh!
Okay, deep breaths. Enough speculation. For good or ill, I am doing the five-and-a-half thousand mile, seven time zone thing, and I'm doing it for Jennifer. I don't know what's going to happen, Jennifer doesn't know what's going to happen, and you don't know what's going to happen. But whatever it is, it'll happen in just a few days time.
I repeat: Aaargh!
NB: Now that I've removed the countdown for crimes against loading time, those of you who are interested in keeping track of the upcoming meeting should take note of the following: I land at LAX at 23:25 GMT on November 19th. Taking luggage retrieval and customs into account, I'd imagine that I'll be meeting the lovely Jennifer at approximately 00:00 GMT on the 20th. That's 16:00 on the 19th Pacific Time. The rest of you will have to do the math.
More trouble sleeping. I despise being unemployed. It should be fun to take some time away from routine, but it's not working out that way. With nothing to get out of bed for, I feel bored and can't find the motivation to use the extra time I suddenly have on my hands to do something constructive. Write a novel, for example. But when I can't even work up the enthusiasm to pen the 3,000 word final chapter of a novella I've enjoyed writing, I'm pretty sure a commitment to 70,000 or so is beyond me.
The idea of The Novel is really starting to bother me. Seems like it's in the back of my mind all the time now, which is one of the reasons why I'm finding it so hard to sleep. I lie there and put my characters in theoretical situations, getting to know them so that when I finally have to bring them to life, the words will write themselves. That's when writing's the most fun, I think, that moment when you realise the world you've created has come to life and you're as much a passenger as your readers. I love it, and I love writing. That's not the problem. My life's the problem, and not even in a bad way. It just feels like there are too many other opportunities I don't want to miss by locking myself away and doing the fingertip boogie over this dirty old keyboard for a couple of months.
All that said, I'm getting frustrated with having this particular endeavour stuck inside my head, and there will come a time - probably in the next month or two - when the blog will slow right down and I'll stop replying to my e-mails. That's when you'll know I've finally pulled my finger out. It'll happen, and when I quit putting it off, I bet I'll sleep like a fucking baby.
Right now, though, at 2:24 in the morning on November 16th, the two things I'm feeling most are nervous and insecure. It's just a couple of days before I fly to California for no other reason than a strange and sweet connection with a girl I still barely know. When you think about it, there are only so many things you can find out about a person in three months of chat, e-mail, and telephone conversations. Those things were enough for me to tempt further debt and buy a plane ticket I really can't afford, but all I can think about now are the possibilities, one of which is a cataclysmic crash and burn.
No, not the plane. Don't even think that. There are only so many horrific outcomes a boy can consider in one day, and ending up plummeting towards a fiery death at about a million miles an hour hasn't even made the list. I laugh in the face of your morbid speculation.
But...what if she doesn't like me in person? What if she doesn't fancy me? I'm not a beautiful, well-hung stud or anything, y'know, just a tall redhead carrying a couple of extra pounds and staring out of a face that folk only usually fall in love with once they get to know me. I've never been one for getting worried about my appearance, but then I've never started to fall for a person before meeting them either. It's a new situation, and I've developed all kinds of new neuroses to go with it.
Ultimately, I know I'll be okay. I wouldn't have bought the ticket in the first place if I thought otherwise. I mean, I have a webcam, she's seen my face (and that's all, you filthy perverts). Even if the reality doesn't turn out to be what she thought it would be, I know more than enough to feel sure we'll be friends. I guess what really horrifies me is the thought that I'll end up hooked on her while she just wants to be friends. Or vice-versa, though there isn't much room in my worry-worn head for that particular scenario. Christ, you've seen that girl's eyes, right? Yeah, me too. At the moment, I see them just about every time I close mine. With a future that involves staring into those, it's no wonder I can't sleep.
But I'm still worried about it. In fact, I'm fucking terrified. Sure, things going wrong would be bad. But what about things going right? Maybe y'all are international jetsetters with heaps of cash and lovers in sixteen different countries. Sure sounds like it from the way you keep telling me not to worry. Don't worry!? It's the other side of the fucking world! five-and-a-half-thousand miles! Seven time zones! You think I do shit like this all the time!? On a whim!? For a girl I've never met!? Aaargh!
Okay, deep breaths. Enough speculation. For good or ill, I am doing the five-and-a-half thousand mile, seven time zone thing, and I'm doing it for Jennifer. I don't know what's going to happen, Jennifer doesn't know what's going to happen, and you don't know what's going to happen. But whatever it is, it'll happen in just a few days time.
I repeat: Aaargh!
NB: Now that I've removed the countdown for crimes against loading time, those of you who are interested in keeping track of the upcoming meeting should take note of the following: I land at LAX at 23:25 GMT on November 19th. Taking luggage retrieval and customs into account, I'd imagine that I'll be meeting the lovely Jennifer at approximately 00:00 GMT on the 20th. That's 16:00 on the 19th Pacific Time. The rest of you will have to do the math.
posted by Michael at 7:36 PM
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