It's not unusual for me to be awake at odd hours of the night.

My mind is almost always constantly moving from idea to concept to words that might need to written down at some point, to things I wish I'd remembered during the day.  This non-stop buzzing most often wakes me up multiple times during the night, not stopping until the alarm alerts me that I should probably begin preparing for my day job.


I like to consider New Years Eve the habitual insomniac's favorite holiday.  We weren't going to sleep anyway (or, we were going to wake up again), so what better an excuse to remain awake until midnight to ring in the New Year.

This year, as always, I will spend the minutes just preceding midnight summarizing this year, and trying to visualize where I would like to be next year.  I will likely focus on the very things that kept me awake all night this year, and those things I hope to change in the New Year.

I will think about the subtle feeling that something wasn't right with the apartment we had just moved into, and my excitement that I had been invited to test for a promotion.

I will remember the day I took the test, walking out of the testing feeling like I had passed, even if barely, and driving home while taking a phone call that no one wants to receive.  I will recall arriving home, sitting my daughter down, and telling her that one of her friends had passed away.  For once, I had to step away from my little "I can handle everything by myself" island, and enlist some additional support for my daughter while she was going through all of this.

I will never forget holding her through the funeral of her four year old friend for the rest of my life.

As the clock ticks down, I will remember the frantic scrambling of feet above my head, running upstairs to find both of my children curled up in chairs, trying to stay away from the mice they had just seen in the apartment.  I will also remember them taking up baseball bats and covering what room openings they could, moving furniture to try and draw the mice out in order to kill the mice themselves.

I will think of my happiness to find that my son had been accepted into Job Corps, followed by my mixed feelings when the call came for him to report to San Diego so quickly.  A small get together with friends, old and new, prayer, a family dinner, then he was on his way.

A fast move, wherein my daughter and I hauled only what could fit into my car to a small storage, then found a way to live only on things that could only fit in my car in one trip.

It's been one hell of a year.

There is the thought that everything changes at midnight on New Year's Eve.  All of the trials and troubles of the past year fade away, and a clean slate is granted to start fresh with the new year.  I think we all like to believe that, especially when the past year has been a particularly hard one.  Any year that feels like one long night, with only a promise of the day to come, has all that live through it only too happy to see it come to an end.

But like most insomniacs will tell you, dawn eventually comes.  Slowly, but steadily, light will begin to peek through the gaps of blinds and shutters.  The minutes will dwindle to seconds, and this long, dark night of 2015 will end.

I, and so many others, are absolutely ready for morning.  Welcome, 2016.

Everybody has a "thing": a certain little something that catches your notice when you first meet someone.  Because no one can immediately see what kind of personality a person has, more than likely your initial "thing" will be something physical.  And we all know some body part aficionados: legs, breasts, hair.  We are all at least a little guilty of being mesmerized by some aspect of another person's outward appearance.

I am just as guilty as anybody.  I am about as into male objectification as most single women my age.  I marveled at the well formed bodies of the men in Magic Mike, and I enjoy the, ahem, sight seeing on warm days in Southern California, when men turn to tank tops and shorts for relief from the heat.

But if I were to be completely honest, I would admit that I am a huge sucker for a beautiful pair of eyes.  Color doesn't matter.  I always thought it was a cliche that the eyes were the windows to the soul.  I don't know if I would go quite that far, but I know that really paying attention, and looking right at people during a conversation, can often tell you almost all you need to know about that person.

It's a habit I picked up after taking a class on work habits and study skills at a local community college.  We went through a section on different types of listening, and I was most struck by the instructor's definition of active listening: When you are completely silent, and absolutely focused on the person you are in a conversation with.  

Far beyond just looking away when they are not telling the complete truth (and even that isn't always necessarily true), you will always be able to get pretty close to what's going on with people internally if you watch their eyes during a conversation.  You will learn that even while smiling and insisting that they are "okay",someone's eyes can tell you that they are actually in the worst pain of their lives.  It takes a lot of learned empathy to see a person's life through their eyes, not just their words.  I've heard people say the sweetest things, while seeing the judgement and condescension in their eyes.  It was more than a touch disconcerting, and unfortunately confirmed suspicions I already harbored about those same people.

If I ever decide that I want to be in another relationship, I hope to find a person with nice eyes.  Not blue or green or hazel necessarily.  Although those would be nice, I mean a person whose eyes show me that kindness and understanding are a part of their internal makeup.  I've mentioned before that as much as I like a pretty face, internal qualities are extremely important, and we all need somewhere to start ascertaining what those qualities are.  I figure the eyes are as good a place to start as any.