The Fortuneless Cookie


I ate the ice cream tonight.  After spending the day assiduously avoiding caffeine after another evening of extreme sleep incompatibility, I ate the coffee ice cream.  I also put hot fudge on it.  I may regret it when I lay in bed tonight and my brain is doing the sort of overclocked magic tricks it did last night.  I am hoping to drink more water and…I don’t know, maybe come and do another turn on the couch which sometimes helps, and sometimes doesn’t.  It is, of course, as ever, a question of being afraid of it happening rather than any fear while it happens.  I’m building aversions that are based on nothing. The bed is not the cause of the sleeplessness.  The room is not.  It’s the stress in my head venting, fiendishly, mechanically, over my field of vision.

Eventually, I do sleep.  I just don’t know when.  It wasn’t at 1:30 or 2 when I felt like I could pop my eyeballs out and string them into a necklace, when I felt inescapably trapped in Willy Wonka’s nightmare gondola ride  Maybe at 3?  I should just get up and not lay there, watching the laser light show my brain puts on.  I half-regret forcing myself to submit to the clock rather than the circadian rhythm I’m experiencing – fucked up as it is, it just feels like I can’t let myself lock in this habit, this bad behavior.

I do regret the hiccups that are rocketing through me at the moment.  The TV is showing a Dead Like Me marathon, and every muscle in my body aches for relief.  We had to move more of those tubs full of Naugahyde and flannel and decapitated mannequin heads and for six hours straight, I worked like a dog, mostly I think because I have this interview and I have this whole idea of leaving now climbing over me.   I want to be good about it, even if as I know now, it can’t necessarily be good.

Two years ago, it was the same situation, but the emotions felt different.  End of October, I had the delineation of the trip to Italy between one job and the next.  After so much struggle, I was offered a doorway out of my problems and I was brave enough to take it.  I was farewell partied, twice…I was earnestly saluted and sent off to meet my future.  And my future turned out not to need or know what to do with me.  My future was having problems of its own.  My future and I did not get along.  My future gave up.

And now, there’s a compression of time and need.  If I get this new position (and I may get smacked in the face with a decline or a “that position has already been filled” note so no excitement yet), it’s just me trying to course correct. It’s just me trying to stabilize.  Not to say I don’t care and don’t want the job, just right now…I need a platform that isn’t shaking to stand on.

I need to sleep and I am not tired enough to do it.

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