Insomnia will make you do the wacky

So I’ve created a blog. I probably did this because I can’t sleep, and haven't done so all night. Insomnia will make you do the wacky, I suppose. I’m blaming this on insomnia. That may be a running theme.

In the creation process, there was one strange question that popped in my head while creating this blog, and that was, where’s Helvetica? They did a whole documentary about that font, but there’s no Helvetica to choose from when creating a blog on this thing. I mean, I know there’s dozens of different variations on the bloody font type, but not even one? Really? Weird.

Have you ever been so stressed you start to gnaw on your own fingers? I’ve chewed my index finger down to the point I had to use a Band-Aid to stop the bleeding. I didn’t even realize it until I saw the blood on the keyboard. It’s like Blood on the Dance Floor, but without there being a song about it, I suppose.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say blood on something without thinking of Blood on the Dance Floor. Not because it’s the best song ever. Hell, I think I’ve only heard the song once. It’s the title, you see. It’s a very catchy title.

In my fit of not sleeping, I’ve tried painting, but then I have to kick myself for gnawing my finger. See, stress, which I’ve been brow beaten with due to a day job I have to maintain to pay my bills, has done almost more to me than my stupid back. It’s also affected my back. To make up a statistic because I’m lazy, 78% of Americans carry there stress in their back. When your back is messed up like mine, it only compounds the pain. Add in that I’m prone to bouts of insomnia, and ulcers, and apparently eating my own flesh like some George Romero zombie, and you have an artist that can’t do art.

Also, typing is starting to bug my finger. Stupid keyboarding class… I can’t even try the hunt and peck method. I’ve been able to type for so long it’s too hard to stop doing it right.

I think I’m cranky. I go back to pointing the accusing finger at insomnia. I’m jealous of my cat, who is sleeping next to me right now. I want to poke her.

(pokes cat)

That was satisfying. Now we’re both awake. I should tell her to go make me a sandwich. Pity about that lack of thumb thing, and that she’d have to use the very paws she walks on, which would be gross. No one wants a combination of cat fur and floor dirt in their sandwich.

I think I’m going to go try to read Atlas Shrugged. Or The Idiot. One of those should help get me sleepy. Reading in bed always does. Don’t ask me why I haven’t tried that yet. I’ve tried my usual, which are documentaries about the revolutionary war or our Founding Fathers. Usually the droning voice of the narrator gets me there. Personally, I like the subject matter, but the narrator… really, why do they always get a Ben Stein like reading for things? It’s like they want to bore you to sleep.