Jennie Smash

I can’t sleep. Ahhhh. I can’t sleep. This won’t be a very good entry, because I can’t sleep.

It’s my own fault. I took a nap today. And I went to the gym. Going to the gym is good for you, eventually, because it works off anxiety, but when you start going again after a long absence, well, it just winds you up more.

It’s Sunday night. Sunday night is the worst. I lie in my bed, covers sandy and bunched around my legs, thinking of the 9,000 things I have to do the next day. Also about major life plans. Also about every stupid thing I’ve ever said to anyone, ever. By the time I’m done, I’ve pretty much convinced myself that it’s a miracle that I’ve managed to maintain any job or friendship for more than a month or so, ever.

This is lots of fun. I’m thinking of making it into a boardgame. I will call it, “You Lose!” It will be like “Sorry!”, only about anxiety. Some of the square will read, “Did you really do the best job you could on that project last week?” and “You really shoulda called that guy before you left the office on Friday.” Others will read, “Remember that one guy you broke up with over e-mail? It was seven years ago, but you’re still an asshole.” Or “Really worthwhile people would rather read about matters of political importance, instead of spending all day reading blogs and celebrity gossip.”

I think that this game will be huge, at least among my friends.