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The year I spent in bed...

If I were to write a memoir about this year of my life, it would be titled, 'The Year I Spent In Bed'. Not because I have been sick, or even because I have spent the entire year in bed, but because it seems to me that is all I want to do this year.

I have felt so deathly tired all year. I get up, go to uni (most days, anyway, but not today and not last Friday, or Thursday, and not tomorrow, but maybe for a bit on Wednesday), come home and go to bed. On weekends, if I'm not out of the house on an errand, I'm usually to be found in my bed.

I'm not sleeping all the time, in fact, I only ever doze on and off, and rarely sleep properly at night. It's just that I find I do all my best thinking in bed and the work I do requires a helluva lot of thinking!

This morning I've been reading blogs by other writers doing a PhD, as well as the odd (and they're usually odd, one way or another) creative writing blog. After a few hours doing that I feel exhausted. My head is full of thoughts all racing around and competing with each other for my attention like five year olds.

Now what I really need is some time in bed to focus on taming these little beasts and getting them to speak to me with some semblance of coherence. It might turn out that two or three of them could make friends and start something exciting; a new goal, or maybe even a new project!

For thinking I need quiet and cozy. I need to be bundled up in a hug where I feel safe to let everything go and allow myself to just float along with my thoughts. You see thoughts are like fairy floss, if you grasp them too firmly, they lose their body, and become crushed; hard little lumps of crystalised sugar. Sugar is sweet, but fairy floss is magic. I need magic.



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