Insomnia

I've tried reading until I'm tired, but I finished the book and still can't sleep.  The Pilot's Wife is one of Oprah's books.  A compelling read.  I wouldn't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it yet, so I'll not give away the ending.  Anyway, I finished that book and actually felt tired.  I was pretty sick at school today with a headache, and it just wore me out.  I felt so miserable that I considered finding someone to cover my last couple of classes, but I needed to explain how to write one of the paragraphs of an essay I'd assigned, so I stayed.  But the day just wore me out, so you'd think that now I could sleep.  However, my sleep patterns defy logic.  I think I'll have some wine and blog my worries away.

As I read other blogs, I feel hopelessly inadequate trying to put together one of my own.  My thoughts seem too dull most of the time.  I once considered myself a witty person.  I could make people laugh.  Now I seem to just listen to the conversations around me and hope that the others at the lunch table don't mind if I chime in a thought from time to time.

Are you depressed yet?  Keep reading, you'll get there.  I should rename this blog the Debbie Downer Road.  Writing is supposed to be therapeutic.  Perhaps my subsequent blogs will have a lighter tone, but the musings of an insomniac are not likely to be very bubbly. 

I did enjoy my ride this evening, taking our youngest son back to school.  As Mike and I drove back home, I watched the sliver of a moon follow our car.  I thought of the little song my mom used to sing:  "I see the moon and the moon sees me; the moon sees somebody I would like to see; God bless the moon and God bless me; and God bless the somebody I would like to see."  I used to sing that to myself when I was homesick, thinking about my loved ones looking up at the same moon from many miles away.  There was something comforting about that thought.  Missing my mom isn't as overwhelming as it used to be.  I can think of her now and remember things, and her absence is just a reality that is there.

Good things from the week--getting some kudos from parents at conferences.  And finding a great place to listen to jazz on Thursday nights.  I may become a regular at that place.  The problem is trying to stay awake past 9:00.  Ironic that I get sleepy on a school night, but can't sleep now.  Okay--stop and get the wine.

There wasn't much left in the bottle of Las Perdices syrah.  I love just the smell of it--and to think I never used to enjoy any red wines.  This stuff is great.  That's another good thing from the week--the wine tasting Monday night.  I learned a new trick in savoring wines.  You take just a sip and hold it in the front of your mouth, and then inhale.  Kind of hard to do without drooling, but it really makes the flavor pop.  It also may keep me from sucking down the entire glassful at blazing speed. 

I collected a few paragraphs that I brought home with me to get a head start on grading.  Most students won't have theirs ready until Monday, and a fairly large contingent won't have their paragraphs done even then, but I hope I can make myself get through these first few so I have a bit of a headstart.  I plan to collect one body paragraph, the intro, and maybe the conclusion so that students have some guidance on each bit.  The joy of teaching literature that I love is dimmed immensely by the torture of reading bad writing.  I would like to find and strangle the person who taught these students the old saw of  "tell them what you're going to tell them, then tell them, then tell them what you told them."  Nothing like bad writing which is also redundant.  It actually could be a cure for my insomnia.

Still not sleepy.  I'll bet you wish I would drop off to sleep before I write another line.  Sorry, the therapy continues.  I'm sitting in a dark room, sipping wine at each pause, hearing only the hum of the furnace and the drip of a faucet in the kitchen.  The moon must be hiding on the other side of the house.  There's no light on the snowy yard.  Even the neighbor's mercury light across the road seems dimmer than usual.  Fortunately for you, dear reader, I have run out of thoughts, as I usually do in rather short order.  I may finish watching the Peter Jackson documentary on the making of King Kong--deciding how much of it to show my film study class.  A few more clips on special effects and a bit more time for their projects, and the marking period will be done.  A new batch of students awaits.  Their joy cannot be contained.  As yours cannot at my ending this blog.  Good night/morning.