Insomniac Thoughts

Insomniac Thoughts

Last night around 2am I woke up from a nightmare about a red-back spider.

These are the thoughts that followed:

  • Someone I spoke to earlier that day misunderstood something I said, damn, wish I caught it then
  • I definitely double-booked myself on Thursday two weeks from now (shit)
  • I wonder if Arts Centre Melbourne will let me reschedule?
  • Wish I could check that right now.
  • That time I felt pressured into eating a cracker with salmon spread. Should have stood my ground.
  • If I go back to school, I will still have 6 months out of the year to work
  • How can I support myself working 6 months a year
  • What if we are saving for a house and we want to buy a house by then
  • What if I get pregnancy
  • There is no good reason imaginable to give birth to a brand new child
  • Why don’t people adopt more
  • I should definitely stop thinking and just clear my mind. Breathe, count to 100.
  • If I knew more about it I would try to be an adoption advocate and push to clear hurdles to adoption
  • When you apply for a home loan they ask you if you foresee any change to your circumstances in the near future
  • Going to school or having a baby would definitely be big changes
  • I wonder if OE would be comfortable being the primary parent and just holding steady while I go back to school and build some kind of crazy patchwork career
  • I would really like majoring in Politics and International Studies, learning how to do proper research would be a major bonus
  • I have a lot of relevant life experiences
  • That would really inform my writing, I could do non-fiction too
  • Might as well get a Masters in Public Policy while I’m at it
  • I could do lots of things with that, I could be a researcher on contract (is that a thing yes it probably is), I could still edit – maybe someone would think I was the perfect editor and hire me for a doco or for factual even though that’s not the point of the degree nor has that genre been a particularly strong desire of my as far as editing goes, but money is money I would still want to work as an editor anyway – I could also write more non-fiction and do more street level social project type things and it wouldn’t even matter that I was making a pittance because I have other ways to make money, very lucky.
  • But that’s not to discount fiction which is my first love anyway and I reckon research skills plus general knowledge of political and social paradigms would be incredibly helpful
  • You know they say when you can’t sleep you should get up and do something, but getting up means working on my book and that means staring at a screen
  • Or I could read Heft but that would also just wake me up more
  • Goddammit Hank are you vomiting over there
  • I hope this room doesn’t smell like vomit in a minute
  • Is that a plane? Jesus what time is it? The earliest planes leave at like 5:30? No, 6:00?
  • There’s a car, where are they going this time of night?
  • I haven’t heard another plane in a while, maybe it was just a secret private plane and someone who has to bake bread at 3am.
  • I wonder if childhood trauma particularly relating to nighttime has anything to do with my terrible sleep
  • Need to book flights to Sydney, and a hotel
  • I wonder if I’d had a normal upbringing if I would have just basically done everything right the first time around
  • God feeling sorry for myself again am I?
  • ***Secret hypothetical birthday party plans***
  • John Steinbeck had an entire chapter dedicated to a turtle crossing the road in Grapes of Wrath
  • Maybe if I got a Masters in Public Policy, what would my thesis be about?
  • My thesis would be called something like Why Women Stay and it would be about all the practical and economic reasons women stay in abusive relationships
  • and not even just women with kids
  • Or maybe my thesis would be on the significance of cultural capital in social mobility
  • how a lot of times people who try to be very non-racist in the workplace still edge out people of colour because they have different backpacks filled with different cultural capital
  • Hell I’ve done it myself and even saw myself doing it and didn’t know how to stop it
  • I’m sure both of those theses have been done before
  • I would like to read them
  • am I being wanky
  • I have no idea how to build the next scene of this book, guess I should go back to the issue checklist, see what people haven’t brought up in conversation yet
  • Maybe I should just write the next draft as best I can and revise it all at once instead of in parts
  • I have still so far to go on this, still so much to do in terms of structuring
  • Goddammit Hank get off the bed
  • I have to start shutting the door to this bedroom
  • Definitely more cars out now
  • Guess I’m taking Hank to the park, maybe for a whole hour and he’ll be worn out for a little bit and I can get back to writing
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enjoy

enjoy

cat I’ll keep this simple
you’ve got one life to live and it’s short
yes I’ll open the door for you

…o

…o

I imagine a bubble trailing
after the wave which is receding
the wave moves faster than the
film of water it leaves behind
the water protects the bubble from the sand
and the bubble slides back to sea
but will never make it, it snags on a ragged grain
the skin breaks
and it’s gone