Under Siege by Consciousness

2:46 a.m. I am awake for the third time since I first zonked out between the last episode of Munsters, so it was before 9 p.m. but I was up again at 10:30, then midnight, and again at 1:30. Since I did not do my entire cocktail I am not finding it easy to get back to, and stay, asleep, but my kid is off school today so I can’t really risk over sedation and being unable to wake up. But as this is annoying, I just took another 6mg melatonin, 50 mg Atrax, and 1mg Xanax. Because I spent all of Sunday, spent and watching the clock til bedtime, and I am pissed off that I can’t just stay asleep and wake up rested.

I have another Matchbox 20 song stuck in my head, which is pretty common when I am awake at this hour, nearing 3 a.m. “It’s 3 a.m., I must be lonely.”

Except I’m not lonely. I have cats galore grooming me with face licking and Freddy Krueger facial claw massages. Those are the calm ones not knocking shit over as they pillage and plunder. They are all feeling the change in season and weather and acting like psychos to a degree. I bet the vet would take a line out of my shrinks’ book and advise I spend a hundred bucks on a sun light to aid the cats with their seasonal issues. Pfft.

I endured a little NCIS: New Orleans but I couldn’t determine what were simply bad accents, bad acting, or my ignorance of New Orleans culture so I didn’t enjoy it, it just annoyed me. Then came the realization that there is nothing on free TV channels this late so I put an old Favorite in the VCR. Under Siege. It’s really the only Seagal movie I like but I credit a lot of that to Tommy Lee Jones, one my fave ever actors, he’s awesome in everything even as bad guys. Hopefully I can drift back to sleep with the movie as my soundtrack, I find comfort in bombarding myself at bedtime with stuff I’ve watched ad nauseum, so it becomes soothing as opposed to stimulating.

In trying not to end up over sedated and skipping that Atrax earlier, I am paying for it as my histamines are in an uproar and my skin itches in a thousand spots, which is maddening.

This goes back to the happy medium dream that I can never seem to acchieve and it is not lack of desire or lack of trying.

We’re alternating between warm and cold, dry, rainy, sunny, and gloomy weather now and it’s messing with my head, big time. I want gloom and get sunlight scorching my retinas. I need sunlight to boost my mood and get blackened day skies with torrential downpours and cold.

And now I have become preoccupied with my future plans but am finding my desire hampered by frustration that I cannot, alone, bring that dream to fruition. But it is what I want to do. And I’d be damn good at it. My stepmonster took me to our Armpit ‘antique/indoor sale’ the other day and bought me a few things in an effort to cheer my up since everyone buys so much for Spook but I do without even though I love yard sales cos I put my kid first. And it was a walk down memory lane, as my grandmother owned a similar consignment shop up til I was 11 or so. Some of my happiest memories were wandering that old shop and piling on old costume jewelry and bright scarves and letting my imagination run wild with fantasies of being a famous actress or whatever. (My dad called me Gypsy Rose Lee, which I later came to realize isn’t all that appropriate a nickname for a 9,10 year old.) But I commented aloud, “I wish I could own a place like this and do this for the rest of my life.” One of the owners pointed out that the building was for sale and my stepmonster said, “If I had that kind of money, I’d buy it in a heartbeat and put Niki in charge.”

My family believes in me, sort of, they just aren’t well off enough to help. Still, them recognizing that I’d be good at acquiring goods and could run a successful business…it counts for something.

Short of being a roadie for Motionless In White (with my kid and cats in tow), I think the resell gig would be my dream job. Though I;d be content with working from home via computer doing whatever pays the bills and keeps my kid in what she needs. Unfortunately, no one is knocking down doors offering opportunities to do such work.

3:04 a.m. Sorry, Rob Thomas, and Matchbox 20. I’m still not lonely. Hungry, yes, but far too lazy to bother to feed myself. I will just watch Seagal kick some terrorist ass and wait for the combo to kick in and let me sleep a little longer. Oh, and is it arrested development or just staunch fashion taste that makes me still totally want that studded leather jacket bad guy Tommy Lee Jones wore in this movie?

Fashion taste. Leather and studs are timeless. WANT. That. Jacket.

Hopefully when I do go back to sleep I won’t be plagued with more vivid dreams. Such bizarre dreams that feel so real. Like driving a big rig (I can’t even drive a stick shift car) but my eyes won’t open, as if glued shut, and I can’t see the road and…BREATHE. Man, nightmares are bad, but sometimes it’s the dreams that are realistic that get you worst. I doubt I will sink to the bottom in a Titanic-esque boat but not being able to see while driving…that could totally happen.

Think I like the drowning scenario better. Least Titanic went down with lots of interesting scenery in tact.

Yeah, I know. My brain ain’t right. But you gotta love its quirkiness. It’s like one of those water rides underground where you don’t know what’s coming up in the darkness. Could be killer clowns, could be an adorable animatronic tiger cub…

Welcome to my nightmare. (Yep, had to throw in Alice Cooper lest I get saddled with a light rock label just cos I like some Matchbox 20.)

That’d be awful, like being labeled Republican or Democrat or, egad, a Juggalo.

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