[5:13 a.m.] My Twitter Men & John Mayer's Anxiety & How If You're Looking For Something Coherent To Read, You've Come To The Wrong Place

Why am I up at this hour?  I started around eleven crafting some sensible cover letters for some fun positions I saw posted on idealist.org and now the sun's about to come up and my eyes are totally shot.  Dry eye syndrome is not fun.  But here's the good news: doc told me last week that I am the perfect candidate for Lasik just as long as I keep the dry eye thing under control.  That made my day since the dry eyes completely took me out of the running before.  So I guess I'll find a way to come up with a few grand at some point and go under the laser beam.  Ouch.  But oh, how wonderful would it be to have near perfect vision?  It gives me the tingles all over just thinking about it.  I'd smile from ear to ear for like, a whole month straight.  Waking up in the morning with perfect vision.  And I thought I had no dreams.  Pshaw.

It's comical: I now have five Twitter accounts bookmarked in my Chrome browser.  FIVE.  If I had an iPhone or a blackberry, maybe I would consider becoming a Twit, I mean, a Twitterer, but this gal is still using old-fashioned text messages and her voice chords to communicate.  Anyway, I thought it was curious that the five Twitterers I follow are all men; a wondrously strange composition of men, but ones I admire for one reason or another.  And yes, some have a flaw or two, but who doesn't?  

(In no particular order)

John Legend

Roger Ebert

Matt Logelin

Josh Groban

John Mayer

Seriously...blog friends, my infatuation with John Mayer's music is freaking hilarious and simply OUT OF CONTROL.  That concert was like...what did he say about Jessica Simpson in that Playboy interview?  Was it "sexual napalm?"  Oh, no, I'm thinking "crack cocaine."  Yes, I believe that's the one.  Anyway, since that concert last week {+}, I can play his tunes over and over and over again without overdosing.  It's ridiculous.  I'm ridiculous.  It's like crack cocaine.  I can't get enough of it.  Crack cocaine is ridiculous.  

It's the butt crack of dawn and I haven't even washed my face and put on the jammies yet...will I pull an all-nighter?  Maybe.  Ok, I'm VERY CLEARLY not coherent right now.  I'm delirious with exhaustion.  

But before I go, I wanted to say that I read some interviews of Mr. Mayer (crack cocaine, I say!) and I think the main reason why I seem to take pause and semi-pardon his douche bag reputation and actions is that he has an anxiety disorder.  I'm familiar.  Quite.  If you don't suffer from anxiety yourself or have someone really close to you that does (the crippling "I feel like the sky is falling on top of me" kind and not the "oh, no, I'm nervous for my interview" kind) I encourage you to refrain from judging.  Because, really, you'll just never know.  It's as simple as that.  I know how it can make you do things and say things and think things that make you come off as someone that you're totally not.  Even as you're doing it or thinking it or saying it, you know that it's a mistake and a poor reflection on you, but you still do it because your head gets ahead of you while your body feels like you're simultaneously having a heart attack/sweating like you just ran a marathon/about to pass out/shaking uncontrollably and before you know it, the deed is done.  The harm has been done.  All because your head can't kick the anxiety bubble that just burst inside you.  Some people withdraw and fall to pieces quietly almost in silence.  Others turn all out aggresive extrovert and fall to pieces in public in a very loud brashy ugly way.  I'm pretty sure that's what John does.  He's also a rockstar.  He must have a twinge of the egomaniac in him, too.  How else would you have the spine to be a rockstar?  A believable good one, that is.  One with attitude and a smear of "I'm all that and a bag of chips."  Anyway, Xanax, John.  Xanax.  The palindrome king of the prescription world.  Use it wisely under the guidance of your shrink.  Love it.  Embrace it.  Used properly, it can help you learn how to control yourself, especially if you're sweating over how much the media scrutinizes you.

Just went to another tab in my browser and sent out another resume.  Good for me.  Another resume sent out!!  It's 6:15 now and the sun is up.  I gots to get mine tushy to beddy-bye.  Nigh-nigh, y'all!

I feel like I'm on crack cocaine right now I'm so whack tired.  One hour of sleep, ready or not, here I come.