Squirrels Don't Sleep
April 19, 2012
I fell asleep at 6am last night, which is more commonly referred to as “this morning”. Same thing happened the previous night (morning) and the night (morning) before that. Ah yes, insomnia has blessed my soul recently. Insomnia actually feels more akin to a red bull addicted squirrel that has taken up residence within my veins. He runs back and forth, up and down, side-to-side, scratching every inch of my insides with rapid speed and making my legs shake as though they’ve been fit with a boat motor. Yes, I drink a lot of coffee in the morning and afternoon but I don’t believe this is the primary concern; for as fast as that little squirrel figure eights through my body, he can’t even begin to keep up to his granddaddy that’s pawing at my mind. The thoughts, the ideas, the creative juices flow like there’s a leaking lemon tree right behind my eyes.
Yes, I know what you’re thinking… if my mind is so active with all these ideas, I should write them down to free up mental space. Oh but I do, dear friends. Two pink moleskin notebooks are implanted in my purse, a free floating “to-do” list that sees check marks daily sits in my laptop case, a “do it, bitch” mobile checklist is prominent on my iPhone, along with a contact list of friendly advisors whom are regularly bombarded with my brilliance via text. However, the sandman still refuses to take pity on me. I’ve contemplated decorating my walls with massive white boards as the next step.
What I really want to know here is this: are great thinkers and creative idea makers, also minimalist sleepers? Is there a silver lining here, and if so, what is it? Does my insomnia give me potential someday of being a great thinker? Or does it just make me sleepless, cranky, and crazy? So far, my silver lining is found in the tweeps I’ve bonded with at 3am as I throw out that 140 character insomniacal roar throughout the twitterverse. Lacking the comfort of sleep, I like knowing that within seconds I’ll find comfort from strangers just like me, lying in their beds on their smart phones, wide-eyed and kindly roaring back at me.
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