Goodnight Moon!

As many of you may well know, I don't sleep. Ever. Prescription medications to remedy this problem are a pretty common occurrence in my life. I don't like it...but I also don't like the sunny side of 3am. I am a self admitted pill popper. Trouble is, they don't really work anymore. So I have been reading up on ye ol' interwebs and trying to come up with a Plan B. You know, just in case Plan Ambien ceases to work completely.

There is an article on MSN today titled, "Finding Dreamland." Sounds promising, no?

No.

This is the first brilliant idea they tossed out,

Turn off your mind
Keep yourself from rehashing a stressful day of worries by focusing your thoughts on something peaceful and non-threatening, says Michael Stevenson, Ph.D., a psychologist and clinical director of the North Valley Sleep Disorders Center in Mission Hills, California. Play some soft, soothing music as you drift off or some environmental noise, such as the sound of a waterfall, waves crashing on a beach, or the sound of rain in a jungle. The only rule: Be sure it's not intrusive or distracting.

OHHHH! I should turn off my mind?! That's great info, thank you. Never occurred to me before. I am about as satisfied with that tidbit as I was when I left the sleep clinic and they said, "Yeah-you never really slept all night. Hmmmmm"

Hmmmm indeed.


(And on an unrelated note, why is 'goodnight' one word but 'good day' and 'good morning' are two?)

The Daily Debate

I am a high school teacher. As such, I find myself caught in many-a-mind bending conversation. The debate for the day?

Do dog's have butt-cracks?

I offered up a resounding NO. And to prove it, I tossed out the following evidence,
along with the reasoning that you can have a hole but not a crack.

I am amazed to report that I am still in the minority. They are so wrong...but so convinced that they aren't. Unreal.

On this day, I am proud to be a teacher.

Queen of Indecision

I don't do change well. I don't like it. I don't thrive on it. I don't thirst and hunger for the excitement of it. I may go as far as to say that I hate it. I'm sure a therapist could get to the bottom of my issues, but I think that a fear of failure (or screwing up) is at the root of it. Perhaps, it is just an issue of dealing with the devil's you know.

As a result, I find myself trapped in a world of indecision. Too many options to screw the pooch and I don't want to be the one to blame when the proverbial crap hits the fan. What if this happens? What if that does? What if I choose wrong and am doomed to a life of misery and misfortune? So...I stay where I am. Not terribly happy but not terribly sad. Just beige.

Indecision...I am your Queen. Feel free to bow and courtesy before me.

I deserve a tiara.

Bottoms Up!

If this isn't reason enough to start drinking, I don't know what is.

Karma's a Cruel Mistress

Let us rewind to a conversation that I had with my friend Naomi shortly before we left for Puerto Rico.

"Do you think I should bring my computer with me? I might get some work done if we have some downtime," Naomi said.

"I don't know. I don't think I would. What if it gets stolen, or broken? I don't think that's a good idea."

She brought it...it got infested with ants and then was baptized by the stupidity of our neighbors. She freaked out that all of her doctoral work was lost. I went back to bed. (In my defense, I was very tired....and maybe in an Ambien haze.) I waited a few days and then reminded her, "Like I said....I wouldn't bring my computer on vacation."

Jump ahead a few weeks. My portfolio for my master's degree is due on Thursday. Two years worth of papers, data, charts and graphs should all be tied up nicely with a pretty little bow. But what do I have?

A virus. Oh- and a bunch of files that say, "Data corrupted. Cannot open," or some such nonsense.

Karma is cruel, indeed.

Desperately Seeking Dash

My lovely friend Heather, who I don't think reads this, posted a poem on her facebook the other day. I read it. I heard it. I felt it.I let it rumble around in my head for a bit. And I may have gotten a bit choked up. Not for any one reason in particular, but rather as a result of the sum of many parts. My dash has not gone the places I expected it would. My dash has been neglected. Sometimes I've been mad at where my dash has gone. As a result, I've treated it poorly, ignored it, infact. Poor Dash. I've let my dash be controlled by so many things that I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'll try to make it up to you. Things are looking up, though. As of, May 8th, Dash, you are all mine! I will be done with this masters work, shortly after that I will be done with real work....then it's just me and you. Jill and the Dash......doin it hard core.


The Dash
by Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
©1996 Linda Ellis

Very Serious Plans

But I need some volunteers. This is not a joke.