I woke up today with anxiety about yet another same day. Sometimes I feel like I am stuck forever in Groundhog Day. This feeling has been persistent for some time. I took a week off work. It should be great, right? But for the first time in my life, I wish I was at work to break out the monotony of walking my dog twice a day and doing art in between. Don’t get me wrong, my life is wonderful. I am super privileged. I recognize that to a full degree. However, I do long for change at least for a little one.

Maybe I have this anxiety because I quit smoking. Who knows. I read somewhere that it is normal to experience anxiety when you quit. In addition to that, I have horrible insomnia as well. My sleep gets interrupted at about 1 pm and then I cannot fall back into the delicious oblivion of darkness and the dreams. I tried everything: reading boring books (yes, there is such a thing as that), drinking wine (which feels alcoholically at 1 am). Nothing helps. I toss and turn but the relief does not come. It fucking sucks. Maybe it is because I am getting into the next bracket age-wise. I won’t mention which one it is although I have to say it’s getting pretty high on the scale of age.

I also tried watching stupid shows. But what I found is stupid shows actually hold my attention in terms of debunking or laughing at the stupidity of the writers of the show. The latest one is “Bones.” Based on the science of forensic anthropology there in existence are “deciduous conifers” trees. Really?! Is it not either deciduous or coniferns? I am not up to my forensic knowledge but that made me suspect that the rest of the things they say on the show is nonsensical drivel as well. But I cannot stop watching it. Why or why?

I know this post is starting to shape up as a whiny “poor me” one. Not my intention. It’s just what is on my mind right now. I hope this can be forgiving as I don’t complain whole a lot here. At least I don’t think I do. Regardless, the same days go on. The same routine is breaking me but life is good at the same time. The oxymoronic existence is trying but doable. I’ll stick with that.

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