May 13, 2010

Just call me P

My middle name should've been "Procrastinator".  Amy Procrastinator Miner.  No, fuck that!  It should be my first name.  Procrastinator Extraordinaire Amy.  Perhaps I should run down to the city hall and put in for a name change?!  I'm not really sure when this gnarly habit first reared its unruly head, but its been with me all through adulthood.  Now that I'm thinking back, I do recollect being on the school bus--to elementary school nonetheless--doing homework while the wheels on the bus went round and round.  Why the hell was I waiting til the last minute to do simple times tables?

I sure didn't come out of the womb as a procrastinator.  I came into this world full force, as somewhat of an overachiever.  I busted out of that cell almost 2 months early; tiny (4lbs 4oz to be exact) but ready to conquer all that stood in my way.  So why then now, do I put off everything in my life until I feel the breath of pressure panting down my neck?  Does my body really crave the endorphins that are released as I'm sweating my ass off at the thought of not making it to an appointment on time/not getting an assignment done/ studying last minute/packing last minute/fill in the blank.  Granted, I do work well under pressure but I would really like to be able to live like a "normal" person and just do things in a timely manner. Case in point: right now I should be studying for an exam, but instead I sit here and type.  Go figure! Perhaps I'll try to work on this "problem" of mine.  I will get right on it!  Tomorrow...

May 10, 2010

Sandman, Please Come Back!!

I used to sleep like the dead.  I probably could have slept in the median of a busy highway if I was tired enough.  It never mattered if I had a bed, a blanket or even a pillow.  Just give me a sweatshirt to ball up or  my boney forearm and I'd be good to go.  In my early 20s my roommate would come home from work to find me zonked out on the only couch in the living room.  Attempts to wake me were futile.  Unbeknownst to me as I drifted through la-la-land, she would have friends over, watch movies, make noise--all without even a stir from my zombied body.  Some days I would sleep until the next morning which was pretty awesome--or disgusting if you're an uptight clean freak--because I was already dressed for work (hey, I brushed my teeth & washed my face!).  So WHAT THE FUCK gives as of lately?!  I have been sleeping like shit:( 

Take the past couple of nights for instance.  I probably woke up 5 billion times.  5 billion agitating times.  While Jeff snoozed away in bliss, I was tossing and turning, wide awake every. fucking. time!  To add insult, the short times I was able to sleep were punctuated with uber weird, freaky, distorted dreams that I unfortunately can't fully recollect since I re-woke and re-fell asleep so many times.  I realize that "back in the day" I worked outside in the heat which may have aided in my deep slumbers but the other weekend I walked 16 muthafuckin miles and still only slept 6 hours!  I don't get it. 

I like sleep.  I relish in the fact that since we still don't have kids I can sleep the day away if I want.  Sleeping is not a necessity.  It's an event.  It's something I like to do in my free time. I don't feel as though I'm wasting my day while I'm dreaming away.  I'm just hoping that I'm having an off year (that's how long this BS has been going on).  This inability to sleep in odd places or anywhere really is becoming quite the nuisance!  I now hear every click-clack from dog nails on the wooden floors when I stay at my mom's, can't be anywhere near a snoring human (can hear that shit through headphones!) and every. single. time Jeff does his trippy PTSD induced nightly twitching I'm woken up.  Please oh please oh please don't let this be a constant as I'm getting older.  I miss my old friend sleep!