Thursday, August 26, 2004


I have never felt compelled to get up during the night and write. I am not one of those people. But tonight, I have just returned from my near-three week trip in Ireland, Scotland, England and Holland. I have slept only three hours and I cannot imagine going back to bed right now. There is too much on my mind.

I'd like to blame my wide-awake status on the jet-lagged but England, the last country I was in, is only a five hour difference--catching up a time gap so small has never been a difficult task for me before.

I hear the garbage men outside collecting the trash. God, it must be so awful to wake up this early every morning.

I have so much on my mind I don't even know where to begin. Life as I had anticipated it (before I left) may change drastically in the next few days and I'm not really sure what to do.

The sun has yet to rise. It is 5:01 AM. I'm almost angry at the day for having not yet begun. I resent the outside for still being so dark and early. I am not at fault for being up; this Thursday is wrong for not already greeting me. My head feels slightly like a dampened sponge that refuses to be squeezed, retaining the water, adding a heaviness that knows no release.

I'm not sure what to do or, in fact, if there is anything for me to do. And I know that sometimes we must concede and just go for the ride. I only wish I was in the passenger seat. The back seat feels so far away from the windshield view. I don't know which exit is next.


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