Balls.

The big, unanswerable question: Why can't I (get back to) sleep?

I've had difficulty sleeping for a few years, now – five, that I recall. If there's such a thing as intermittent insomnia, I have it. Or Pain-In-The-Ass, Make-Up-Your-Mind Insomnia. When I moved to Hawaii, my sleep schedule was pretty great because it was six hours early. I went to bed at 1 AM, Hawaii time, but, really, I was going to bed at 7 AM, Maryland time. My bad. Now I'm used to the damn time difference and back to being awesome. (read: awesomely annoyed.)

For example, last night I went to bed – bed, not sleep – at around 1:30 AM. Could not sleep. Balls. I listened to music (the more screaming there is, the easier it is for me to go to sleep. DIM works wonders) on my headphones but am not feeling tired because... well, GazettE is awesome. And I'm getting into it. And head-banging. While lying down. (It's a gift.) So I take off my headphones and try counting things... like how long it's been since I slept through the night. Last time I looked at the clock, it was 3:38. I wake up today at 7:05 and cannot, I repeat, cannot get back to sleep. Balls.

There are, of course, various medications I could take or things I could do to get to sleep. I could stop reading about Lindsay Lohan and her various misadventures. I could stop writing about serial killers before I go to bed. I could stop reading about serial killers before I go to bed. (I don't have bad dreams or anything. Serial killers are just too interesting and I lay thinking about them for hours.) I could wrap a warm, chamomile-infested towel around my face before going to sleep. There was a vitamin in the pharmacy I used to work, called Sleep Factors that was good about getting me to sleep; I still woke up in the middle of the night, but I would always go back to sleep after a half hour or so... unless it was after 5, and then I just said fuck it and got out my lap top.

Personally, I blame my sleep issues on the universe. If Twilight would go away, Jersey Shore would stay in Jersey (It never should have left. No one really likes Jersey.), Taylor Momsen would realize that she is sixteen and not anything like Kurt Cobain or Courtney Love (Believe it or not, I consider her comments and style to be an insult to Courtney Love, and I HATE Courtnet Love. Skank.), the oil spill would clean itself up, and animal abusers would suddenly grow a conscious and have to feel bad for what they did, maybe I would get to sleep at night. But because there are prepubescent creepy girls and equally creepy moms, tanning beds in every state, little girls who still try to fit into their mom's clothing, idiots with oil and overall jackasses in the world, I won't sleep. I've decided it's a protest. I protest Twilight with my own self destruction.

Yessss.

And now, since my roommates are asleep and I have nothing to do, I return to my celebrity blog reading, my green tea and my tomato soup. I hope you all had a lovely night's sleep. (Jerks.)

P.S. OMG LOL Sam Ronson totally defended Lindsay to Joan Rivers via Twitter! TEE HEE.
P.P.S. This is my last blog entry, as I am about to shoot myself in the face for that post script.