nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Topsy turvy

I've not been home too long, having worked my evening shift. Not alot hopping there, although we did have our first high school football game of the season and one team or the other didn't like the outcome and our officers had to escort the referees from the stadium. Pretty sad stuff. Typical fare for a Friday night, waivers and bonds, and it seemed that grumpiness was in the air today. No one wanted to be at work, and I figure that's probably because it's a holiday weekend and we've all just got other ideas of fun.

I'm going to that ballgame. Some of the more human coworkers I have agreed to split my third shift hours among themselves. Nice of them and I'll bake them all cookies or something.

I logged online and snuggled my ears into the headphones for my cd player. The sweet dulcet sounds of Sarah Mclachlan are taking the bite off my mood. Like a nail file rasping away at the ragged edges of my thoughts. And painting it all a bit blue.

I just need some space, away and outside to sort through all the buildup in my head, all the accumulated clutter. I have some things going on that I need to pick apart and put back together in a way that makes sense to me, not just to everyone else around me. Some decisions that I need to see all sides of.

And some of that involves turning myself inside and out to figure out what I want from my future, re-aligning my goals and making sure everything is still on track. I've had too many days of feeling that offkilter way. I need to find my even ground again.

Make sense? It's that internal inventory I like to talk about. It's what I need to do to make sure it's all as it's supposed to be.

And I'm tired now, and getting melancholy and I know it's just because I feel icky. Tummy turning and all that.

Sweet dreams.

N. *** P.S. As tired as I was and am, it's not enough to put me to bed. Obviously. It's 1:25 a.m. and I'm still here, still sitting in front of this damn computer, still staring at this screen. And it's not as if there's anything here keeping my interest. Quite the opposite. And I think I'm going to turn on that infernal thing called the television and let it bore me to sleep. n.

12:11 a.m. - 2003-08-30

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