There are a lot of things that may conjure up feelings of frustration. Like, having Firefox crash on you EVERY TIME you want to attach an important document to an important email to be sent to someone important. Or, listening to the same old tired excuses and justifications pouring out from some same old tired self. Or, not being able to have control of the tv remote control and having the ABC news (of which you were watching) being channel-flicked to 'World's Strictest Parents (come on). However, at this very moment in time, there is nothing more frustrating than insomnia.

Yes, Insomnia, why do you plague me so?? I have spent the last 2 hours with my eyes wide open and my brain alert to every single distraction in my surrounds. I have tried tossing and turning, sleeping on my side, listening to the Bookends Theme by Simon & Garfunkel REPEATEDLY, and reading facts on Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino and The Graduate on Wikipedia...to no avail. I have finally resorted to blogging, perhaps the remedy lies in purging my brain of words.

I wonder if this is a side-effect of being anxious. Not that I'm saying that I have an anxiety disorder, but. Of late, a lot has been occupying my mind. Work. Pleasing the boss and making sure that everything is on time. Coordinating the coming Antarctic season. Having to relearn subjects from First Year, that I thought I'd never see again, so that I don't look like a complete idiot in front of my class. Moving out. Storage space. Packing up. Airplane tickets back home. The outrageously and unreasonably expensive cost of airplane tickets. Wages. Rent. Money. Somehow, it always boils down to money.

Not that I'm destitute or anything. I just don't ever want to be in the place I was 4.5 months ago.

It almost seems ironic that the last thing I watched on tv was Fight Club. The hero, an everyday man weighed down by the banality of life and the relentless hunger of consumerism and for IKEA products, ends up with insomnia and becomes crazy. Or at least, crazy-ISH. Perhaps it is not irony at play but a some-what befitting consequence of letting the little things in life get the better of me.

I wish I was tired. No, actually that's not correct; I AM tired. But I wish I was sleepy instead.