A few days ago: This is very unusual for me. I can’t fall asleep. In fact, it’s ah, 1:07 am CST. And I’m wide awake. No desire for a cigar. Kinda thirsty. Apple juice usually does the trick. I’m in the office and the space heater next to me is making my skin itch more than usual, but I’m not in the mood for freezing.
There’s obviously a lot on my mind. Swirling thoughts of what if are pummelling my brain. And the odd thing is I have control over all of them. Just slight slips of logic can put my mind in a mangle of mania that won’t allow the cells to relax. I mean this is odd.
I wrote a few notes on my phone to a few people I know are not up. That’s freedom. You can get a lot off your chest when you know the other person isn’t most likely to respond. Courage? No. Just the opposite. Dwindling guts.
A lot that’s keeping me up is pure supposition on my part. Imaginary. And then again there are minute grains of truth that shimmer through the darkness. I mentally reach out to those spinning specks. And I can tell when I connect with one because my eyes flutter and I have this desire to fall asleep.
Unfortunately, there are not enough of them to keep my brain relaxed long enough so I can get to sleep. The pricks, pins, and needles of scratchy skin aren’t helping the situation at all. And even if I did light up a cigar, I couldn’t do it here. A lot of negative thoughts have trickled into my mind lately, and this temporary sleep deprivation could be the direct result.
I could go through my Rolodex of the mental minutiae that may be keeping these weary brown eyes from relaxing, but then that’s allowing you, the reader, in too deep. And I have to keep my private psychological trauma at bay about some things that occur in my life to myself. I’m not living in a fishbowl.
I know I’m going to get a glass of cold juice and swish it down and try to sleep. But I am engorged with energy, like an anxious racehorse might feel, snorting out snot because I’m just too wound up. I could take something, but then I may regret that decision in a couple of hours and the last thing I can be today is woozy. Yes, it is today. The outside’s darkness might fool me into thinking it’s tonight.
I will let you in on one fact, a misguided wonk has emerged. It’s becoming . . . so, prevalent? So bloody obvious. Years ago the sparkle of the new was enough to keep me spot on. But, you have to really read into what I just wrote. What comes up when you’re this wide awake? Work? Or a perception of the notion. I saw an article about how robotic arms are being programmed to complete delicate jobs with almost surgical precision. Instead, I intellectually go over a variation on a theme on delicacy.
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“Pistil, the female reproductive part of a flower. The pistil, centrally located, typically consists of a swollen base, the ovary, which contains the potential seeds, or ovules; a stalk, or style, arising from the ovary; and a pollen-receptive tip, the stigma, variously shaped and often sticky.
Differences in the composition and form of the pistil are useful in determining taxonomic relationships. There may be a single pistil, as in the lily, or several to many pistils, as in the buttercup. Each pistil is constructed of from one to many enrolled leaf-like structures or carpels. The carpel is a single megasporophyll or modified seed-bearing leaf. A pistil then may be composed of one carpel (simple pistil), as in the sweet pea, or of two or more carpels (compound pistil) partially or completely joined, as in the mustard (two carpels) or lily (three carpels).
A flower that contains separate pistils (and therefore separate carpels) is termed apocarpous; if it contains a single pistil with two or more united carpels, it is syncarpous. Pistils in the collective sense form the gynoecium, in distinction to the male reproductive parts, or androecium.” (www.britannica.com)
Odd, uh. Yeah.
Not a thought about the tobacco plant. That’s work. But what’s keeping me up? A facet, a strand, a detail of work or omnipresent collateral emotional extremes that are resultant remnants of it? What would that be?
I would hazard to guess it’s not inanimate.
Most likely, it’s relationships. The insurmountable unpredictability of the interaction of the species. I won’t go so far as to say fear, the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected. It could have to do with a loss. Of what? Which, I suppose can be considered a form of terror. Loss. But the intoxicating effect of fear sluices through my mind. Especially, as I mentioned, when I think I have absolutely no control over the outcome of a situation when in fact I do! Marginally perhaps. But I do!!!
The flower? It’s initial pollination, growth, bloom, and aroma are all predictable.
People? A person? Totally unpredictable. Really? Really.
Obviously, I have to try and get some sleep because this temporary insomnia is robbing me of refreshing my psyche. Damn. Will I be forced to seek medicinal encouragement? My thought process is genuinely being mangled.
Or I could let nature take its course sans juice or pills, as it is – right this very moment – because I’m still wide awake, which is very unusual for me. I can’t fall asleep. In fact . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qc4G6tOgOYI