Maybe my tiredness is due not to lack of sleep but lack of Muse. Maybe I’m brain-dead which is causing me to not sleep. When I’m more creative I sleep better, right? Hard to tell, it’s been so long since I been creative or slept well. I can tell from my actions (or lack thereof) at work that I am not happy in my job.
I’m happy to have a job, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that, well, I’d like to make a tangible difference. Now my friends will say that I AM making a difference, after all, I work at a homeless shelter. I make sure that around 65 folks have staff available 24/7 and there is toilet paper in bathroom and the washing machines all work, blah, blah, blah. I sit back in my office and write thank-you letters to people for giving us, “three pillowcases,” or “11 canned goods and a box of macaroni and cheese” and I do not feel that it matters. At all.
I tell the women I mentor in Alcoholics Anonymous to make a gratitude list when they take off down that road to depression. But me? Nah, I just want to whine and wait for the wind to blow my Muse back into town.