I named my guitar Sparrow ‘Alex’ Alexander, and he’s been added to The Cavalry. He’s named after the mail client Sparrow, and my cousin Ricky Alexander. ♥️
I’m up at 2:30am and I figured it was time to write something, to at least stop my mind from wandering before going to sleep. I haven’t blogged for a whole week and to be honest, it feels strange. I missed it, but there wasn’t much to say. At the same time, I was dying to write something.
The other day, I wrote a poem in my little red notebook, which has been my diary/scrapbook for the past six months. I haven’t written a poem in so long – but it felt so good to write this, so good to get it out. It tells partially of my time in Indonesia – or really, what was going through my head. As usual, it’s mixed in with themes of love (what I write best about, eh?). I have to keep a scrapbook for one of my subjects that I’m studying this semester. They’ve called it a “visual diary” and we use it to record things that interest us, and throughout the semester, we work towards a final work of art. It’s not really a work of art – it has to follow visual design principles and have typographic elements, which makes it not exactly broad, but it’s not exactly specific either. In our diaries we can record or stick anything in. Candy wrappers. Notes. Sand. String. Leaves. Photos.
Okay, forgive me, I’m just tired at the moment. :( It’s really hard to configure (ahha configure? Am I a computer now?) my sleeping patterns to this thing called a “schedule”. My body has absolutely no sense of schedule right now, and it’s disgusting. I can’t think of a word that properly describes it, but this is a situation where the word “horrid” just doesn’t cut it. It’s disgusting. Maybe I still haven’t gotten over Indonesia yet. Maybe I’m just losing it, but I can’t be – because I’m well, other than having trouble with getting my sleeping straight.
It’s to the point where I need to be forced to go to sleep, maybe.
I went to bed at midnight the other day, but I wasn’t tired at all, and didn’t sleep until several hours later.
I started reducing my antidepressants. I felt great, and I felt like I was more alert, coping much better, so with guidance from my doctor, I started taking my dose once every two days instead of every day. It seems that each day I don’t take them… I end up sleeping super late, and don’t get tired. I bet I’ll be sleepy in the morning, and beyond irritated. I talked to Lilian earlier this evening and we agreed that maybe I should sleep with my curtain open so the sun welcomes me in the morning and helps wake me up. I don’t know why, but I can’t wake up at 6:00am anymore and it makes me sad. This past week I’ve been coming to work late, waking at 8:30, 9:30… and one day, even 10:30. What the hell.
Last Friday, I was supposed to have class from 6-8pm, buuuuut, the teacher didn’t turn up after 50 minutes so everyone went home. I’m irritated about that, because it was a waste of time, and the teacher hasn’t gotten in touch with the students in the class via email. Really not good at all. This means that somehow we’ll have to catch up on the work, which is bound to screw up the whole study plan. I guess I shouldn’t worry too much – it isn’t my fault the teacher didn’t turn up. /argh
Regardless, I’m still struggling with having work every day and then having class in the evenings. Honestly, how do people expect a social life out of university students when their schedules are packed? I freakin’ love my job and I hate popping in late. I hate taking days off work because the office is like my second home now.
Good thing I made a friend in one of my classes, by the way.
I’m always the freakin’ youngest.
Sometimes I wish I lived with James already so he could drag me to bed with him, because he loves sleeping early. We’ve been together for four and a half years now…! ♥️ Seems like just last week that people were wishing us a happy four years. Anyway… saying that about wishing he could help me sleep earlier shows how ignorant I am towards my sleeping patterns though. And I swear I’m not ignorant.
That said, I must motivate myself. I can’t rely on other people. It’s up to me to drag myself to this thing called a bed, shut my eyes, and dream of electric sheep.