I stare at a mirror and call it reality tv.
I've tried to sleep for hours spending all day wanting to sleep turned out to be an anti-climactic experience in terms of sleep, and I sat with my insomnia thinking about the things people are only really supposed think about before they go to sleep so that they don't have to remember. I must have mistaken "I am tired all the time and my whole body hurts and this sweater is really comfortable" for "sleep would feel great right now and I am up to the task." so, I put on my ipod and curled up hoping for the best. After an hour or two I realized that I was really just staring at my ceiling through a strangely critical perspective. I don't think I'm quite as articulate as I once was or as I would like to be, but I'd love to take a shot at this.

When I first moved in, I tried to keep the whole thing meticulously focused hence tried and not succeeded in, feeling that I could craft some kind of specific identity displayed in material goods and grow into it, just like everyone else. I don't really know my own sensibilities. I knew that I didn't know my own sensibilities at the time, or any time- I had a vague sense of certain pigeon holes I would have like to fit, and certain things I wanted to manifest, then have designed accordingly. Looking around now I feel detached and mechanical. I'm almost sure there's something here I'm trying to convey, whether it's that I've gained a sense of myself over the past year much detached from the things I tried and failed to create or have successfully created, that I've gained some kind of perspective through that, or that I just really need to sleep, there's something somewhere in here that I'm trying to convey or explain.... It feels important because it feels honest, and that feeling is so, so important. I honestly don't know what I am talking about. I am way to tired/out of it to think or to explain it any other way. I guess some things only make sense if you're me, and I am okay with that.