My insomnia is back and it brought some old friends with it. I have been up for hours laying in my bed watching the blades of the fan spin around. I gave up counting the number of times it went around when I became dizzy the first time.

I read somewhere that laying with your legs up on the wall is good for your blood pressure and other things. I sit like that late at night when I can't sleep. It helps with the stress a little but doesn't make me fall asleep any easier.

It's nights like this that my brain wonders and I find myself in places that I don't want to be.
I wish I had a 24 hour diner to go to. But this little town closes around 10 and diners aren't a thing down here. So people watching through the night is out, unless I want to frequent the local Walmart. Which I'd rather not do.

I have a thing for diners. If you've never been to New Jersey and sat in a diner, I suggest you try it. And get some coffee while you are there. I love the atmosphere and the people and the people-watching that can go on. It is better than a coffee shop, but I have a thing for those too. And laundromats.

I enjoy people, well more specifically I enjoy people watching. I enjoy thinking about what they are doing and what their story is. It took me a long time to realize that I am not the only person who does this. And I feel much less weird about it now than I did a few years ago.

Recently, I have begun writing in my journals again. And I say journals because I tend to leave them lying around. I just pick up any journal and start writing in it. I actually only have two at this time because I didn't replace them all after the fire. Also because I'm super paranoid and don't want people to read them unless I say so. And I learned a long time ago that you don't leave things lying around that you don't want people looking at. So that brings us to two journals at this time. I'm sure the number of them will grow. I tend to buy new journals when I find a pretty one. I don't care to finish one before I start another. The order of the entries really doesn't mean anything to me. I write to express, not to reflect. I don't tend to go back and reread them. That's just me. Everyone is different about their writing.

So we've covered diners and journals in this post. But what's up with stale coffee. Well turns out I've got a thing for that too. I enjoy coffee at anytime of day. I don't care if you made the pot at 6am, I'll drink it at 6pm--just let me heat it up quick.

I wish I were wittier or had an actual purpose to this post. But I can't say that I do. I just can't sleep and felt like writing. Four pages in one journal and I felt it was time to move onto the blog. So here's the result of that decision.

I'm off to stare at my fan and hopefully get a few hours of shut eye before gracing my students with my presence tomorrow. Wish me luck!