Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am

1) Nobody cares that it's 3:00am and you can't sleep. Not even your mom when you call to tell her about it.
2) You can't buy alcohol in Virginia until 6:00am. 

3) Fungus is a weird word. 

4) Your downstairs neighbor hears your tossing and turning and thinks your dating life is way more exciting than it really is.

5) Whatever you do, don't think about ghosts.

Beyond Fabio

Romance novel heroines have drastically changed over the past ten years. The traditional princesses, governesses, and milk-maidens have been replaced by vampire-hunters, space assassins, and shape-shifters.

The transition of female characters from demure and passive to strong and capable could be viewed as a progressive step for portrayal of women in literature...if the bodice-ripping and bosom-heaving story lines weren't so largely the same.

Rather now, instead of seeking everlasting love with a Viking Prince while overcoming the evil intentions of a cruel stepfather, our heroines are seeking everlasting love with a Werewolf Lord while overcoming the evil intentions of the mutant zombies. They've upped all the stakes but haven't changed the dynamics.

Certainly I'm not advocating that we turn to the historical fiction/fantasy genre for our positive female role models, but I know if I was responsible for saving the residents of Zarton 6 from an intergalactic space drought, I'd like a few more resources other than just my time-traveling warlock lover.

Nature's nature

Last Thursday night, I saw the most beautiful sunset.

I say this not as an artist, poet, or some kind of hippie. In fact, let the record show, I'm exactly the sort of asshole who doesn't appreciate the simple things or natural beauty. But when I looked outside that evening, it took my breath away.

It was like that sunset was just for me. Mother Nature's red and gold mea culpa for the rough summer.

 

Learning to Fly

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought, I thought of everything
No navigator to find my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone
A soul in tension -- that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

~Pink Floyd

Commuter's Delight

Each day, the population of Washington, DC shifts by approximately 70% due exclusively to commuters.

It takes anywhere from a brisk 20 minutes to an excruciating hour and a half to cover the six miles between my apartment and my office. The distance, as it turns out, is nearly irreveleant. My office might well be on the moon.

Each day begins with waiting for the bus. This public transportation system follows a strictly enforced policy that all buses arrive at their scheduled stop either 10 minutes early or 15 minutes late. This is where my fellow commuters and I go through the same, curious, daily ritual. Although we are all gathered at that precise location for the specific and limited purpose of getting onto a bus, when the bus does arrive, whoever is at the front of the line inevitability cracks under the pressure. They stare in bewilderment at the large, approaching metal chariot and freeze. Only after everyone is forced to board around them does the paralysis cease.

Then it's off to the Metro. Now this is when things really get sexy. If you've caught a train that's not delayed, overcrowded, or experiencing mechanical failures, you've won the commuting jackpot. If not, get ready to endure a traveling experience so irritating and inconvenient that Richard Sarles owes every passenger who has made it through a foot massage and six personally administered sessions of CBT.