Sea Sickness

Octopi freak me out. Not because of the way they look, but because I truly believe that if their lifespans were long enough, they could easily rule the world. Their intelligence in comparison to humans is freaky (I once saw a documentary which equated the intelligence of a two-year-old octopus with a five-year-old human child).

And not only that, but I have a very active imagination. As a child, I had nightmares that Ursula (from the little mermaid) lived in our bathroom toilet and would one day come up the drain and consume me as I did my pee.

So I'm not exactly sure why I've been having trouble getting this Octopus shower curtain from Thomas Paul out of my head. Because I do NOT want it. No, Sirree.

$96 USD at Design Public

And I especially do not want to wrap myself up in those freaky, coldly calculating, exquisitely illustrated tentacles or rub them against my face with this baby alpaca throw.

$350 USD at Design Public

No, definitely not.

Except that I do. In fact, I think I may have some sort of nautical illness. Every time I think about decorating our new living room, I am thinking about navy and stripes and rope and anchors. And wondering where I can get a round mirror that feels like a porthole. I haven't been able to get this print from Banquet off my mind for nearly six months.

Marine Animals Poster, $60 USD

So what do I do? Do I run with it? or is this theme-y bordering on tacky?

Precipice

n this post, I would apologize for being a bad blogger and never writing anything, except that then, if one were to go through my archives, every second post would be apologizing. And I get in trouble for apologizing for things too much anyway (even things beyond my control), so here:

I refuse to in any way apologize or regret my lack of posts.

...

That felt weird.


Anyway, moving on, the new year is here! And this year (and more importantly, the next four months) is scheduled to be one of the most monumental years of my life so far.

My very last practicum of my very last year of nursing school has officially begun, and not such a very long time after that comes my wedding. And sometime during this madness, between a busy practicum schedule (pediatrics!) and a weekly breastfeeding course and wedding planning and general housekeeping and cooking and living, I have to find myself a job. Oh, and shower every so often.

And even though I know I am capable of living it all one day at a time, I know I will get through it, I know that most likely everything will be fine, or better than fine - fabulous, even! I find myself with the anxiety that I think is inevitable when any person is standing on the verge of a big change.

It's kind of like preparing to jump off a cliff so tall that there are clouds between you and the bottom so that you can sort of see it, but not clearly. And knowing everything you ever wanted is at the bottom of it all, and moreover, that you won't get hurt by the fall.

But oh, what a very high height.

(daily drop cap )

(edit: I went to FFFFOUND just now, and look what's on the very first page:)
(hooray for small coincidences!)

other peoples' children

hickens, I am going to admit something strange to you today.

I love babies.

Okay, lots of people love babies, I suppose it isn't that strange.

But I tell you, I am obsessed. It is only by the sheer force of my will that I do not already have a brood of babies running around, being ridiculously cute. For Kyle and me, the right time just hasn't come. Money and age and general growing-upness and the like mean that we have decided not to make any babies in the too-near future.


But oh, my. If we didn't have friends with wonderful, sweet, adorable children, I would have baby-trapped that man ages ago.

On giving in.

yle's phone starts beeping in the middle of the night. He wakes up, listens for a minute as his sleepy brain registers the noise, looks at the screen. Junk email. He sighs.

What time is it? I ask.

It's four-forty five, says he.

Guess there's no sleep for me tonight, says I.

In forty-five minutes the alarms will go off, we will press snooze a few times, and then be up for the day.

I need to get some sleep.

The following night, last night, for the first time, I gave in and bought something to help me sleep. After a lifetime of lying in bed staring at the wall, I am caving. I thought maybe this problem could be squashed with chamomile tea and a good routine, but, hello? I am a nurse. There is a very good chance it will be years and years before I have a job which doesn't involve shiftwork. I can't, can't continue like this.

It never, ever takes me less than two hours to fall asleep, and hasn't since I was about five. I remember when my parents would come check on me before they went to bed, they were often shocked to find me awake, quiet, staring at the ceiling. My brother and sister, on the other hand, would give it twenty minutes and then be in the living room with an "I can't sleeeep".

Ha.

On bad days, I sleep two or three hours or not at all. I feel like I can't turn off my brain, even if I am not thinking or deliberating over anything important. It's usually making to-do lists for the following day, thinking about how I wish I had painted the bedroom when I was on that painting spree in the spring, wondering about the logistics of minimizing dust and dog hair in my home. Small, ridiculous things.

So yesterday, I bought my first bottle of melatonin, three milligrams. I will take it regularly, for a while, and later only when I have the signs of a poor night's sleep: a tight jaw, an active mind. It seemed to work last night, though that could have easily just been utter exhaustion. We will see.