Aren't you a pretty little thing!
Someone mistook me for a child the other night. Wait, let me go back a few beats.
I am very interested in the Bible and Christian religions. Yes, I'm a militant atheist with no doubt in my mind that there is no super natural power or anything beyond what we have here on earth. But I also have a very academic interest in religion in general and Christian faiths in particular (mainly because you have to start somewhere and Christianity has always been all around me). I recently sat and chatted with my very nice neighbor, G, who is Pentecostal. She loaned me a few books and then, when I asked her what her beliefs were, invited me to her church on Sunday. As it was an evening service, I said "sure." It was quite the experience given that the last few times I've been in church have been for weddings. I don't know when I was last in attendance for an actual service, but I do know it was nothing like this. The choir was up and running when we arrived and the assembly was on its communal feet, clapping, singing, hands raised towards Heaven (I'm presuming). The Pentecostals appear to be quite expressive and vocal in their worship.
It was nice and I'm glad I went because I took lessons from the sermon that are very applicable to secular life. I may even go again. I filled out a visitor's card and everything. And that's how I found out that I'd been mistaken for a child.
On Monday there was a knocking on my door that was quite persistent (I only answered after the third knock and only because I figured it had to be an emergency [I wasn't exactly ignoring anybody, but I was in the bath and it wasn't exactly convenient]). Turned out to be someone from the church, with my neighbor, bringing me a little thank you gift for having attended the church the night before. It was then that she said "I did see you with G, but I thought you were a child." G assured me that this lady only saw me from the back and I have to assume that she only saw me sitting down. I'm not an Amazonian but, at 5'7, I think I'm rather taller than the average child. Or else I'm shrinking. And not only did she think I was a child, but a child with 'great hair.' Interesting.
Morpheus
Sleep and I are getting through the growing pains and figuring things out. Yesterday, when my alarm sounded, I shut it off as if to say "thank you but no, I'm not getting up right now." And when I say I shut it off, I mean I turned off one alarm, unlocked my cell phone, and dismissed that alarm as well. I have only a vague memory of doing this but it was done and thus I awoke at 8 a.m. when I was meant to begin my work day. Not very good at all. And that extra hour of sleep didn't do me much good based on how tired I was all day.
Last night I took a bath with some sleepy time bath bubbles (courtesy of a friend) and drank some vodka and this helped me fall asleep and stay asleep. I am still dead tired today, but at least I made it to work on time. My goal is to be able to get to sleep by 11 p.m., without any aids (alcoholic or otherwise) and sleep throughout the night. Like I used to before MS and the separation. K told me that she stopped sleeping properly in 2003, when her marital strife began. She is now remarried, has a baby, and life is good, but she said she still doesn't sleep like she used to. I hope that isn't where I'm headed. It's been two months of insomnia, semi-insomnia, sleeping through my alarm, and being constantly tired. The Provigil comes in handy during the work day but I would much prefer just being able to sleep properly. I miss it.
It would probably help if I stopped emailing all evening. That's become a habit that I need to break for more reasons than one. So I have a new goal for the next few days: after work I will go home, have something to eat, say hey to the pig, and then focus on getting my home in order and keeping it in order. I swear to god I clean the fucking place every day and then I get home from work the next day and, evidently, go to a closet, pull things out at random, and throw them on the floor. Oh, and eat off of seven different kinds of plates. It is absurd that I can't keep order when it is only me for fuck's sake.
I'll start that today.
Someone mistook me for a child the other night. Wait, let me go back a few beats.
I am very interested in the Bible and Christian religions. Yes, I'm a militant atheist with no doubt in my mind that there is no super natural power or anything beyond what we have here on earth. But I also have a very academic interest in religion in general and Christian faiths in particular (mainly because you have to start somewhere and Christianity has always been all around me). I recently sat and chatted with my very nice neighbor, G, who is Pentecostal. She loaned me a few books and then, when I asked her what her beliefs were, invited me to her church on Sunday. As it was an evening service, I said "sure." It was quite the experience given that the last few times I've been in church have been for weddings. I don't know when I was last in attendance for an actual service, but I do know it was nothing like this. The choir was up and running when we arrived and the assembly was on its communal feet, clapping, singing, hands raised towards Heaven (I'm presuming). The Pentecostals appear to be quite expressive and vocal in their worship.
It was nice and I'm glad I went because I took lessons from the sermon that are very applicable to secular life. I may even go again. I filled out a visitor's card and everything. And that's how I found out that I'd been mistaken for a child.
On Monday there was a knocking on my door that was quite persistent (I only answered after the third knock and only because I figured it had to be an emergency [I wasn't exactly ignoring anybody, but I was in the bath and it wasn't exactly convenient]). Turned out to be someone from the church, with my neighbor, bringing me a little thank you gift for having attended the church the night before. It was then that she said "I did see you with G, but I thought you were a child." G assured me that this lady only saw me from the back and I have to assume that she only saw me sitting down. I'm not an Amazonian but, at 5'7, I think I'm rather taller than the average child. Or else I'm shrinking. And not only did she think I was a child, but a child with 'great hair.' Interesting.
Sleep and I are getting through the growing pains and figuring things out. Yesterday, when my alarm sounded, I shut it off as if to say "thank you but no, I'm not getting up right now." And when I say I shut it off, I mean I turned off one alarm, unlocked my cell phone, and dismissed that alarm as well. I have only a vague memory of doing this but it was done and thus I awoke at 8 a.m. when I was meant to begin my work day. Not very good at all. And that extra hour of sleep didn't do me much good based on how tired I was all day.
Last night I took a bath with some sleepy time bath bubbles (courtesy of a friend) and drank some vodka and this helped me fall asleep and stay asleep. I am still dead tired today, but at least I made it to work on time. My goal is to be able to get to sleep by 11 p.m., without any aids (alcoholic or otherwise) and sleep throughout the night. Like I used to before MS and the separation. K told me that she stopped sleeping properly in 2003, when her marital strife began. She is now remarried, has a baby, and life is good, but she said she still doesn't sleep like she used to. I hope that isn't where I'm headed. It's been two months of insomnia, semi-insomnia, sleeping through my alarm, and being constantly tired. The Provigil comes in handy during the work day but I would much prefer just being able to sleep properly. I miss it.
It would probably help if I stopped emailing all evening. That's become a habit that I need to break for more reasons than one. So I have a new goal for the next few days: after work I will go home, have something to eat, say hey to the pig, and then focus on getting my home in order and keeping it in order. I swear to god I clean the fucking place every day and then I get home from work the next day and, evidently, go to a closet, pull things out at random, and throw them on the floor. Oh, and eat off of seven different kinds of plates. It is absurd that I can't keep order when it is only me for fuck's sake.
I'll start that today.
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