It's late night here. Or maybe it's early morning. Is this what they call the pre-dawn hours? I suppose the time of day doesn't really matter though. What matters is that I'm sitting here, alone with my thoughts, in a room that feels more like a prison than a sanctuary. And I'm lonely. I'm not often lonely, though when loneliness strikes it always seems to find me at night when everyone else is happily dreaming. Even my cat is comfortably snoozing at my feet. Maybe if I hadn't drank so much coffee today, or was it yesterday already, I'd be able to sleep too.
I'm not being fair though. The coffee that I drank is only partially responsible for my wakefulness. Mostly, I am plagued by racing thoughts that follow one after the next, as though attached to each other like a train. The worst part is that these thoughts have little substance. They aren't important. I am not awake in the middle of the night because I am solving some great mathematical equation, or because I have just composed the next Moonlight Sonata. No, I'm awake because of thoughts like these: "I wonder if they have a lot of mosquitoes in Louisiana," and, "How many germs and how much bacteria does chlorine really kill when it's used in a public swimming pool?" and "Why does my ionizer make that annoying hissing noise even after I've cleaned it?" Why is it that these are the questions keeping me awake at night?
I'd play my guitar to help me relax, but it's almost four in the morning and I don't think that the other people who live here would take kindly to rock 'n' roll interrupting their slumber. I'd paint in the basement, but it appears that I am out of paint thinner right now. I'd read a book, but that would only give my mind more material to think about. So instead, I'm blogging, which doesn't seem to be helping much either. Rather than moving smoothly through my mind, my thoughts seem to have become a jumbled, tangled mess.
I suppose that my thoughts will fade away as I drift off to sleep. Until then, I will wonder if I should repaint my toenails with a bolder shade of silver glitter. I'll wonder if my impending move to Louisiana will give me the change of venue that I have been craving. And I'll wonder exactly how many hours of sitting in a car I can endure before my legs begin to tingle, cramp or ache.
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P.S. In case you were wondering, I like the word iniquitous, which is why it was added as one of the labels/tags. It has nothing to do with this post.
ReplyDeleteAt 3 a.m.
ReplyDeleteThe room contains no sound
except the ticking of the clock
which has begun to panic
like an insect, trapped
in an enormous box.
Books lie open on the carpet.
...
It's the beginning of a poem by Wendy Cope, the rest doesn't really address your situation, but this may. Take heart! As my mother always says "Tomorrow is another day." Full of profunditites she is, my mum.
Oh, Savannah. Just because you are not solving great math problems or curing cancer, does not mean your thoughts are any less important. These things are important to you! And yes, there are mosquitoes in LA. Count on it. Anyway, you are too young to second guess your importance! Wait until you are in your 40s. Ugh. LOVE YOU, Laura
ReplyDelete