The house is quiet....

and I'm listening to the sweet sounds of The Raconteurs... what a band. You Don't Understand Me, one the best songs on the album and the one I identify with the most. I've always felt misunderstood, for the most part, and I figure good ole Jack White does too... but I digress.

I always said I would never get into the blogging thing... seems everyone's doing it, and I usually don't jump on bandwagons. Chances are... no one will ever read a word of this, and I can live with that. I just need a place to put this endless train of thought I seem to have when I should be SLEEPING! Sleep... I forget what that really is. Oh, I'll shut down for a while, but just a little while. Two hours of rest and then, BAM... 3:00 in the morning and I'm wide awake. The hours I should be spending in La-La Land are instead spent reflecting on the state of the world, the state of the pile of laundry growing in the utility room, or my incredibly changing state of mind.

That is the way it's always been for me, since the beginning of time. Night time has always been magical for me. No voices harping, no demands, no critics, no appointments.... it's the only time a soul is free. I can re-enact a poorly worded conversation and make it okay again, I can be the artist I always wanted to be- at night. I can paint that masterpiece in my mind, write the perfect song, construct the perfect monument, save someone... save myself. It's wondrous and right. I seem to have all the answers when the rest of the world slumbers, I'm fucking omnipotent... then... the sun rises. It all slips away, just out of my grasp. Everything I thought I understood suddenly seems to be tinged with doubt or apprehension. I abhor that, but I want to understand it more than anything.

I want to know why it is that I can contemplate alternative universes at 2 in the morning, but I can't even discuss alternative lifestyles at 2 in the afternoon. Why is it that I was so curious as a child that I would lay awake at night and contemplate the thought of nothingness- what does nothing look like? Is it clear? What does clear really look like, when I can't picture it without an image or color behind it?- Yet, in the light of day I don't have the patience to wait at a red light.

Yes... night time is my time and I'm tired of fighting it, but, perhaps with this outlet I won't be so damn cranky in the morning. :P