Deliriously Pontificating

Apparently that is me sleeping. he he
Apparently that is me sleeping. he he

August 21, 2009

Healthcare & Dave
Get over it

In those moments while I am thinking myself to sleep, I write the most eloquent thoughts. The confidence that escapes me during my waking hours comes out with the beautifully written paragraphs that are racing through my brain. In those hazy minutes, I know exactly how to define my religion or lack there of and am proud of the path I have chosen. I can fully articulate past mistakes and neatly tie those mistakes into resolution. I know how to tell people in my life, my friends and family not to worry or take offense with the personal words I place on the page. I can present my reality in such a way that everyone reading can completely understand why I would not share every single detail of my struggle [insert struggle here] with the world when I am on a dinner date or running into [insert friend’s name here] at the grocery store. In my sleepy head, I am able to convey why it is so easy to spew all of these details in written words and in my head, everyone totally gets it. “Would you really think it was appropriate if I were to bring up how frustrated I was with my inability to make sure Dave was in the mood on the exact moment I was ovulating? And then go on and on about my age, my eggs, my lining, my hormones, which would of course open up a can of unresolved past issues, most certainly having something to do with infertility?” I just don’t think you would. On my mind’s page, in those dark hours, it makes sense, I mean, my words make sense and they make sense to everyone.

The Boys August, 2009
The Boys August, 2009

I could most definitely arrange my thoughts on health care reform and share why I think Dave is so brilliant: “I think both sides need to research and look at each other. I don’t think either one of them have it right.”

I often think I should keep a notebook or my laptop near my bed just to capture these most awesome revelations. Actually, I have. And when morning comes I read what write — mostly incoherent thoughts, thoughts that I would be hard pressed to make sense out of. Why then do my words seem so spectacular then?

Maybe because I am asleep.