"a new name for everything"

My doctor wants me to try to go dark earlier and earlier, to shut down all my electronics by 9, to clear my head in hopes of falling asleep earlier.   Sometimes it works, but most of the time it just seems to give me a nice solid rampway to truly freaking out about whether or not I'm going to fall asleep, which of course means I won't.

I'm tense, feeling like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, or some horrible thing I've done in the past is just about to come catch up with me.  Though really, it doesn't even need to have been a horrible thing, just the wrong thing.   (Yeah, here's where I'd drop a Sierra Games reference.)  Maybe it's Readercon.  Maybe it's some piece of my social life.  Maybe it's work.  Maybe it's thinking about getting a new cat.  Other than the fact I'm almost certain it's not Light, I'm really unclear on the where this is coming from.

I turned my ankle Sunday leaving the readercon meeting, on my way to fancyish dinner with Light for his birthday.  It's not bad, I can walk on it, it doesn't seem at all puffy, it's just a little annoying and seems to to contraindicate going to the gym and trying to work myself into enough exhaustion to actually fucking sleep through the night. 

I have like seventeen different things I want to talk about here that have come up in conversations with Feste (who is a exceptional internet talker).  But I also feel like it's one thing to say I'm a little twitterpated and another thing entirely to actually talk about what that means.  But sometimes it's not even things he says, but the space he leaves for me to work something out, which is sometimes even better. 

I'm seriously thinking about the next set of body modifications, another under-the-clothes piercing, and the alchemical symbol for platinum between my boobs.   In its pure form, it's harder than iron.  Once upon a time it was a trash metal.  It became a useable and precious metal by adding arsenic.  It stands for endurance.  How could I not?
 

I keep not posting.  I'm not sure of what I have to say, and so I'm never sure if I'm on message.  For the most part (with one particular exception) I feel like I've forgot how to talk to people, that I'm bothering people or speaking at cross-purposes.  This is not an especially good place to be in as I think about why the hell I'm going to poly speed-dating.  Once again, I am firmly telling myself that a condition of success is walking in the door, everything after that is frosting.  But it will be a thing, and it will happen, and then it will be done happening, and the worst thing that can possibly happen is I've wasted an evening and that's not a very bad worst thing.