last week, cooling my jets

Last week was one of the shittier weeks I've had this year. In spite of the insomnia, I had one of the most productive weeks I've ever had at work. Additionally, I might be approaching a peak in physical condition I haven't seen since college sports. But, it was hard to enjoy these things when I could barely keep my head up, and when my exhaustion gave me this filmy pessimism that encroached on everything.

Then I had these three dates. For two of them, I felt tentative and lukewarm about even showing up. One was a girl I dated for a short time, and the other was a labmate from my undergraduate days who had just moved into town. For both, the conversation was fun, there was a lot of laughter, a little touching, the intimation that more time together would be welcome.

I left feeling lukewarm and tentative about ever showing up again.

The third date, with Wendy, was an unmitigated disaster. Of the the three, this was the only one where I thought it could turn into something, maybe. Wendy did not like me, to the point where, after I spent a few minutes with her, I was surprised she had even agreed to come out. Every conversational attempt I made was met with a passivity bordering on hostility. Eventually, I said "fuck it, not worth it" to myself and went home. These things happen. There are whole songs about this cliche, where no one I like is into me, and vice versa.

But, I was left doubting my ability to read people. How could I have possibly thought this woman was interested in me? What makes me think I'm into these people who I don't connect with? Could I think about any specific trait Wendy had that I was particularly drawn to? Then I remembered the infrequency with which I meet people I feel really attracted (beyond physically) too, and the number of times I've gotten myself into trouble from trying to force the issue. So, I figured I'd quit the dating, or at least cool it, for a while. I don't need to be throwing myself at people who aren't worth the time. I've got better things to do, like trying to get seven hours of sleep in a night.

back to insomnia

Last night I went out with some old friends. Many of them were D.C. friends, some of whom were in town for a couple of days, and others who had given up there and relocated. After we got past the banalities of floor votes, burnt down bars, hawks, doves, Senatorial peccadilloes, and who's staffing who, we mellowed into a low key banter, a dark dive bar, silly jokes and invented dance moves. I went home late.

And woke up at 2:30 in the morning. I was not at all drowsy, feeling the onset of the insomnia I thought I had conquered a couple months ago. Instead of worrying, obsessing on all of the things I might not get down without at least a few hours of rest, I decided to just relax, and use this one productively. I did some low-key work, emailed old friends, drew up an outline for an article I will write someday. After a couple hours of this, my neighbor and friend, Hillary, came out on her porch. She was surprised to see me sitting on mine with my laptop. After a squint-eyed good morning, she said, "Are you up for the eclipse."
She pointed at the moon.
It was pretty nice looking, like someone had dripped caramel all over it. It felt warmer that way.
Hillary went back to bed. Eventually so did I. Today I've been irritable and easily distracted. I've wasted a fair amount of the work day. But that moon was pretty nice looking.