thoughts in the morning

It is not 8am yet.

To some (most) this fact would not be (is not) startling because most (almost all) normal grown-ups wake up at a reasonable, responsible hour to do things like go to work or school.

This before-8am post marks the second time this week that my eyes have witnessed the sun rise and also the second time my eyes have witnessed the sun rise probably since October 2011.

(Isn't noting the year specifically so dramatique of me?)

The truth is, I spent most (all) of this past night tossing and turning and trying to count backwards from 10,000 in an effort to fall asleep. I tend to sleep poorly at hotels because the truth is I really love staying at hotels. It's exciting, even if it's just Ogden, UT. (I need you to know that my phone auto-corrects "Ogden" as "Offensive." Before-8am is funny.) I also sleep poorly without Ames, and especially poorly without a routine. What I'm saying is, all of these facts added up to a sleepless night, evidenced by crumbles and swipes of yesterday's mascara all over this pillow and my forearm from where I tossed it over my face dramatically.

I have felt extraordinarily In Touch with my feelings and goals lately, and yet have seemed to neglect so much of what I love, like essays and writing and music. I've been focused a lot on TV which is great because I have learned a lot about acting, which is really what I love most, but I really do love all beautiful and creative things. I wish I could sew. Like, Project Runway sew. Crocheting is lovely and diverting but since everyone in the world is all about Pinterest and crafting these days it doesn't feel like something I can just throw myself into (except for doilies which are so so pretty and I am good at them, though one doesn't become particularly recognized for extreme feats in doilies).

I went to the mall yesterday (which still feels like today because I didn't sleep, remember?) and indulged in two pretty shirts. I've been so conscious of my lack of income or need to basically ever get dressed for any specific reason that my wardrobe has become increasingly disappointing. But these shirts are pretty and flattering and are of visual interest, which makes me feel like I'm of visual interest, which makes me feel like I can/should wear lipstick-- and we all know how I feel about wearing lipstick.

I'm up in Ogden for the Region 8 Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival-- not participating, of course, but Ames is and a bunch of our friends and I hate to pass up an opportunity to see some interesting acting. I should pay more attention to the seminars but I'm here specifically to see Round 2 of the Irene Ryan acting competition. He's staying with the students, I'm crashing with friend Mel. She is sleeping peacefully while I witness the day-dawn breaking.

Ogden is very interesting. Driving to this hotel was the first time I drove through downtown-- which looks exactly like downtown Provo, which looks exactly like Downtown of most every town in Utah except Salt Lake City. I passed a quintessential cafe, and the tattoo shop, and the crafty gift store that's kind of a landmark but you don't really know anyone who's ever shopped there. Downtown Ogden even has an Indian-place-on-the-corner, which I bet is delicious. There's something comforting in the fact that "downtown" is dependable and predictable. Maybe there's also something frustrating in it too. Frustrating and trapping and metaphorical.

I've been reading too many self-reflective blogs this night, as I landed on Twitter accounts of friends-of-friends-of-friends and whatever.

I guess I'll get up now and wipe away last night's mascara (or what's left of it) and go try to learn a thing or two about acting. I'm going to wear one of my new shirts with my favorite boots.

Maybe I should wake up before 8AM more often.