oh hello again 3:00 a.m.

I never set my alarm anymore. Or, at least, I set my alarm and almost always decide I'd rather not achieve full consciousness. I deftly turn it off (deftly, I tell you. I can do these tricks in my sleep. ask any roommate I've ever had), roll over and snuggle back into my pillow. Later, around 9:30 I cannot hide from wakefulness anymore. I'm awake, I stare at nothing and the core of my being is overwhelmed with a soul-searching, existential malaise.* Eventually I convince myself that I'll make today a good day, I can climb out of this pit into which I've fallen.

But the day that follows is always me wavering between tentative happiness and total disarray. By nine o'clock in the eve I am overwhelmed with despondency. All I want is to go to sleep because I'm certain that if I could just start going to bed at a regular, decent hour I would wake up refreshed and powerful.

However, the erratic sleeping continues. Tonight I was certain I would make it. But I spent an hour and a half listening to The Lovin' Spoonful, pretending to be asleep when my roommate got home. Pretending because I so desperately wanted it to be true. But instead I lay awake sick thinking about...I don't know. Everything I feel I've failed at in the last three months. At least çe soir I'm being smart and filling the wee hours with happy things, unlike last night when I read some of the most depressing literature in the world. Does anyone else wonder why I thought that was a good idea?

[Un](?)fortunately, this has less to do with the post graduation transition period [than I'd like it to be]. My dad reminded me a few weeks ago that life is a series of extraneous circumstances. In other words (my words, not his words), I can't blame my self doubt on the newness of being an un-student. It's always there but now it's bubbling o'er. I've had trouble sleeping and bouts of malaise my whole life. I have to know this, I feel this is the key to being alive: I can quash this storm now but there will still be a train of skirmishes throughout my life. This isn't ever over, it's never over for any of us. And I can never decide if life is beautiful despite this or because of this. I hate the word "despite" so I lean towards the latter.**

So maybe I'm sinking but I am not swallowing water and hope to soon wash up on shore baptized with greater lung capacity. And with more sass and silliness to boot.



*I call it a malaise because in the aftermath of the French Revolution people weren't sure what to do with themselves anymore. Under the rule of the aristocracy corruption had been rampant in church and state affairs and now the Republic was having a hard time pulling itself together. In Alfred de Musset's book, La confession d'un enfant du siècle, he describes the young people as suffering from a malaise. A sickness fermenting in their hearts. Upon learning that I decided it was an apropos and under appreciated word.

**Despite has always seemed to me to be evidence for our inability to appreciate our challenges in our live as part of the adventure and mystery of living.