i hate you, walt whitman! leaves of grass, my ass!

And yet again, I can't sleep when I'm supposed to be curled up in bed with Chris, happily sleeping away. Noooo. Instead I'm on the couch drinking chamomile tea and listening to The Headstones. One of those things will help more than the other with the sleeping. Take a wild guess which one that is. ;) Thing is, I'm very tired. Like, my eyes are closing as I'm sitting here, but as soon as I close my eyes, my mind starts to race. It's a lot of money worries, writing worries, work worries, family worries, and omg my house looks like a bomb exploded in it worries. That last one is really the easiest to fix, but I'm lazy. The first one will hopefully be something I can work out within in the next couple of weeks before Chris's tuition is due. Writing, work, and family isn't so easy. Writing is mostly because I'm lazy and whatever I write down doesn't seem to translate from my brain the way I want it to. Work is the usual crap and mostly it's just me being frustrated and tired of my job, but also being unwilling to go find a new one. Family - well, family is because my mother is so upset right now. My grandfather is dying, my grandmother is driving her batty, and my sister just moved back home for the first time in almost 4 years. I don't deal well with my mom being out of sorts, especially when there is nothing I can do about it except try and support her while she lays down ground rules with my sister and hope for the best.

I was thinking about books while I was in bed as well. I keep thinking about Leaves of Grass and Song of Myself specifically. I know I have copies in one of my twenty thousand English books, but I want copies I can carry around. Just like I want a copy of Beowulf I can carry around with me. I was at a bookstore the other day looking for something for mickeym and I didn't even think to get a new book for myself. I don't read much anymore, but I still want books. I want to feel the pages beneath my fingers instead of keys and laptop screens. Maybe I'll run to B&N before work tomorrow and get myself a copy of Leaves of Grass so I can stop feeling like something is missing in my collection of books. Or maybe I'll just grab up an Arthur Miller play (not The Crucible) and call it an evening. Maybe All My Sons.

There are a lot of authors/works I can't stand because I was an English major. However there's a list of things I want to have in a nice, portable format.

1. Leaves of Grass
2. Beowulf (Seamus Heaney's translation)
3. The Faerie Queene
4. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
5. The Henry plays
6. The Canterbury Tales
7. Siddhartha (because of wander999 not because I really love the book)
8. A paperback version of The Satanic Verses
9. Prometheus Bound
10. The Old Testament

Just please, please don't make me read Hawthorne, Melville, Faulkner, or Thoreau. And only some Hemingway. And looking over that list, you would think I have a strong preference for Middle Age-ish works. Which is really not true. But I do love those particular works.


Oddly enough, I think The Headstones is helping more than the tea.

i hate you, walt whitman! leaves of grass, my ass!

And yet again, I can't sleep when I'm supposed to be curled up in bed with Chris, happily sleeping away. Noooo. Instead I'm on the couch drinking chamomile tea and listening to The Headstones. One of those things will help more than the other with the sleeping. Take a wild guess which one that is. ;) Thing is, I'm very tired. Like, my eyes are closing as I'm sitting here, but as soon as I close my eyes, my mind starts to race. It's a lot of money worries, writing worries, work worries, family worries, and omg my house looks like a bomb exploded in it worries. That last one is really the easiest to fix, but I'm lazy. The first one will hopefully be something I can work out within in the next couple of weeks before Chris's tuition is due. Writing, work, and family isn't so easy. Writing is mostly because I'm lazy and whatever I write down doesn't seem to translate from my brain the way I want it to. Work is the usual crap and mostly it's just me being frustrated and tired of my job, but also being unwilling to go find a new one. Family - well, family is because my mother is so upset right now. My grandfather is dying, my grandmother is driving her batty, and my sister just moved back home for the first time in almost 4 years. I don't deal well with my mom being out of sorts, especially when there is nothing I can do about it except try and support her while she lays down ground rules with my sister and hope for the best.

I was thinking about books while I was in bed as well. I keep thinking about Leaves of Grass and Song of Myself specifically. I know I have copies in one of my twenty thousand English books, but I want copies I can carry around. Just like I want a copy of Beowulf I can carry around with me. I was at a bookstore the other day looking for something for mickeym and I didn't even think to get a new book for myself. I don't read much anymore, but I still want books. I want to feel the pages beneath my fingers instead of keys and laptop screens. Maybe I'll run to B&N before work tomorrow and get myself a copy of Leaves of Grass so I can stop feeling like something is missing in my collection of books. Or maybe I'll just grab up an Arthur Miller play (not The Crucible) and call it an evening. Maybe All My Sons.

There are a lot of authors/works I can't stand because I was an English major. However there's a list of things I want to have in a nice, portable format.

1. Leaves of Grass
2. Beowulf (Seamus Heaney's translation)
3. The Faerie Queene
4. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
5. The Henry plays
6. The Canterbury Tales
7. Siddhartha (because of wander999 not because I really love the book)
8. A paperback version of The Satanic Verses
9. Prometheus Bound
10. The Old Testament

Just please, please don't make me read Hawthorne, Melville, Faulkner, or Thoreau. And only some Hemingway. And looking over that list, you would think I have a strong preference for Middle Age-ish works. Which is really not true. But I do love those particular works.


Oddly enough, I think The Headstones is helping more than the tea.