(no subject)
I can never seem to sleep anymore, even when I know I need to be up for work. Ten and a half hours tomorrow-- oh, joy. I am trying to be more careful about eating, because on Thursday I had one of my dizzy spells. I don't feel sorry for myself, either, because I could have easily avoided it. How hard is it to eat? But I had to work 4:30-10, and all I ate was a pb&j sandwich and a glass of milk when I got up at 11.
I had planned on eating again before work, but I was trying to finish the last Twilight book (Breaking Dawn) and didn't have time. About an hour into my shift, It became difficult to focus-- that's the first sign. I tried to ignore it, and just to focus on scanning the orders, but I started scanning the next order before I even bagged the previous one, and then I didn't know what I was doing at all. It feels a little bit like there's not enough blood getting to your brain, and everything kind of goes fuzzy and all you're really aware of is your own thoughts, and your own body. Actually, you're acutely aware of your body-- you can feel everything, but all your surroundings kind of fade out. I know from past experience that the next part would be black around the fringes of my field of vision, which would slowly encroach until all I saw was black. And then I would wake up on the floor. But I didn't let it get that far; I gripped the edges of my till and turned over my shoulder to Sandra, who was on the till behind me. I said something along the lines of "Sandra... can you get someone... I need to sit..."
I can never tell how my voice sounds when I am like that, it sort of sounds like a stranger talking. Lucky it was her, because many people don't seem to take me that seriously, but I passed out right in front of her when I first started working there so she swooped in. I'm really curious as to how I look and act when it's happening. I'm almost tempted to starve myself in England and then stand with my knees locked and make Michael film me. I'm pretty sure he would refuse, but I can try!
I feel like, sometimes, I'm not "mysterious" enough. I think I would be more interesting if I held more back. But maybe I don't see myself clearly, because really, I don't talk to people all that much. Well, not here anyway. But even then, sometimes I just blurt random unnecessary information, and people always seem a bit surprised-- not like, offended, but like they think it's out of character. But people who know me well know it's not out of character, because I always say too much. I'm not very good at being subtle, or keeping secrets, or just generally being cool and collected. I think maybe that would be a detriment to me as a novelist, because I would find it difficult not to just put everything out there.
I really wish I could be a novelist, and just write some book or series that blows up all of the sudden, and make zillions of dollars and have poeple love my work. I'm thinking along the lines of J.K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyers... because, while I admit it's not like "great literature" in the classic sense at least, it's captivating and people can relate to it. And you become attached to the characters. I wouldn't really like to write like... well that's not true, I WOULD like to write some great classic and be taught in ivy league literature classes for the rest of eternity-- but I would be more than satisfied with writing something that engages people, and that they can relate to, and that makes them happy. Maybe that's not "cool", but it would make me happy. And I feel that I am at least as good of a writer as either one of the aforementioned women, and a lot of the writers who are published nowadays. It's just a matter of picking the right story, writing it at the right time, and sending it to the right publishers. And not getting discouraged.
It's frustrating because, I know with the lifestyle I want with my Michael, I'm probably going to have to hold down a job of some sort. And being a novelist, except for the really, really lucky, is not really a sensible job. It would be so nice if, for once in my life, I got to just do what I wanted, and what made me happy, rather than the responsible thing. But I guess that's what being grown up is, isn't it? Settling. I almost wish that they didn't say to you when you're little "you can grow up to be anything you want! you can do anything!". Because we all know that they were lying, and it hurts to have that in the back of your mind when you realize that your dreams will never be attained, and that you have failed. And that's what it is, really-- years of believing that you can do anything only to fail at what you want most.
So anyway, maybe I should start a private, written journal, because I'm being awfully revealing here-- so much for attempting mystery. Oh well, I guess I should go to sleep.