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2:22 in the morning and I can't sleep. I guess it serves me right, for forming all these terrible, terrible habits - nocturnal inactivity, general laziness, the inability to actually complete anything I start. It builds steadily, back when I was twelve, fifteen, twenty, staying up late re-arranging myself in bed futilely or fucking about online, or occasionally actually <i>doing things</i> (here I summon that one time I wrote a bit of a musical, and uh, I guess that's mostly it huh :() are so much more admissible when you don't have grown-up responsibilities you must be awake and functioning in the morning for. Goddamnit.

I have made third-quarter-year resolutions, though! Mainly, to finish things I start, and resist the impulse to open a bunch of links and do the intellectual equivalent of fidgeting only with windows. And! NOT. TO. FACEBOOK. I can afford to scroll through it pointlessly maybe once a day, and once that window's closed IT IS CLOSED THANKS THAT IS ALL. Mm mm, and the other thing I mean to do - timeline goals/stages of completion and begin with writing all that down.

Sometimes I wish I was less restless, or that I wanted a bit less or a bit more - either way I feel like I come up short and I get all antsy the undefined immensity of everything I want to do/accomplish/be. I want to write and shoot and read and spend every hour of my life with baby and go out and walk and be alone and have coffee and work and cook things learn things, have proper date nights with my husband and lounge about watching movies and eat everything delicious with people I love and get all the chores I need to get done too and contribute meaningfully to household finances and have more babies and a house overlooking a lake with our own woods and a sill to sit on to think or read while having coffee. I want to spend significant portions of my lifetime learning to do what I love, and then learning how to do what I love <i>well</i>, but first I want to learn what I love and how to go about that for starters.

Man. Being a grown-up is kind of ridiculous - it would be easier, I think, if not knowing what to do with our small, finite lives, was something that only afflicted us when we were grumpy teenagers or freewheeling-ly selfish young adults. Strap a baby to your back (without even talking about how it gets there) and worry about feeding it and suddenly you feel it violently - how short life is, how much you love, how much you need to be a person, and most of all how much more you want, now that you have it all.