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questions

TWENTY QUESTIONS

TWENTY QUESTIONS

I’ve always been the type to ask a lot of questions.  I can’t remember that time period or anything, but I’d bet that I was the kind of toddler I really hate, the one who always followed an answer with yet another, “Why?”  In fact, I can only assume that one of the reasons I became such a fan of Sesame Street is because – to save the last fraying shred of their collective sanities – my parents shoved me in front of the TV to try to carve out just a moment of peace until my next question popped into my head and then immediately out of my mouth.

You know how every teacher you ever had growing up told the class, “There are no stupid questions”?  Well, as a teacher, I can tell you that all of those teachers were lying.  There are, of course, questions that are totally moronic and they are often asked by morons and, just as the question sails through the air and hits my ears, I can feel a surge of patience kick in like adrenaline usually does.  

AWAKE

AWAKE

There’s something going on and I don’t exactly know what it is or how I would describe it, but if whatever has been wrecking constant havoc with my emotions and with my mind was made up of a heavily-pigmnanted color, I think that color would probably be a dark maroon, almost blood-red at its core.

Part of it all is that I’m not doing the normal things like sleeping or eating like I usually do.  I take this herbal stuff to make me fall and hopefully stay asleep, but it hasn’t worked the way it usually does in that it usually makes me slide into an uneasy slumber and wake up a few hours later and roll to the side and check out the time and feel grateful that I still have several more hours of maybe-sleep to go.  But, though I’m still taking those pills, I haven’t been falling asleep.  I’m trying to blame it on anything I can besides what I fear it really is.  I tell myself that the weather is changing and I like to sleep in a room that feels cool and that I have a lot on my mind when it comes to all that must get done between now and late June at work.  I admit to myself that I feel the need to continually come up with ideas for my writing and that I’m terrified that Bravo will unleash a new set of Housewives in some random rural city and then I’ll feel the unwelcome desire to follow those lunatics too but on the upside, maybe I’ll finally get to see what a real life Dairy Queen actually looks like because a Dairy Queen is where a part of me believes all rural people spend all of their time.

DEAR DIARY...

DEAR DIARY...

Dear Diary,

There is so much about this world I fear I will never be able to fully understand.  And I believe that my rampant inability to sleep soundly through the darkness of night is potentially rooted in the unstoppable whirl of everything that I just don’t know for sure that goes spinning through my head on repeat like a bad song by ABBA.

It is good to question things, Diary – at least that’s what I’ve always been told.  Because if I question, I will continue to learn. I will continue to grow and I will be far more knowledgeable than the person who simply accepts things at face value – or at least I will be tied with anybody who has the Wikipedia app on his or her phone.