I can’t sleep. Ever. I rest four, maybe five hours a night. I can’t stop thinking. I lie here in this big king, memory foam adjustable bed and tweet. I tweet a lot these days. I have Facebook and during the day I Facebook some. Some days I post several times a day. I’m bored with my existence. It sounds terrible. It sounds depressing to say I’m bored with my life.
It isn’t bad.
It isn’t sad.
It isn’t depressing.
It is just a fact that I’m in the middle of my life and I don’t know what to do next.
The things I come up with seem ludicrous.
Travelling and photographing 100 plus year old buildings that are abandoned.
Photographing little known, forgotten, cemeteries.
Being a clown. That sounds fun.
Opening another second hand shop.
Write a book even if no one reads it.
Drive all over the United States. Leave my home and just drive until I’ve hit all continental states. Screw Hawaii. I’m not all about flying unless I absolutely have to. I may at some point change my mind about the flying thing someday but for today… No need, no desire.
I feel like I’m not normal.
Not sure if that is a bad thing.