If I could sleep forever...

Have hit the wall so many times in the past two days, I feel as if I've got bricks in my face!

Am so tired, such a space cadet, that I'm barely functioning. Having stayed up til gone 5am the other night, I then couldn't get to sleep at all – not a wink. So frustrating, lying there, head spinning, thoughts churning – desperate to embrace the blissful release of sleep, but no. Wasn't to be. Agonising way to spend an hour and a half, in that pre-dawn time; acutely aware of the refrigerator rumble, and the early bird twittering – each sound seemingly excessive and intrusive; my heightened senses refusing to allow me to switch off and tune out.

Needless to say, got up before my alarm even started blurting, wobbly and shaky, feeling utterly shite. Somehow held it together for Susannah's class - handing in the sodding piece of work required, and trying to take in the lesson as best I could. We were looking at photographs as a trigger to access memory; so was felt quite special revisiting the trek and summiting Kala Phattur, nearly a whole year ago now (how scary is that?)! Certainly got into the flow of the writing – if only it was always that easy/productive.

Back in Penzance, miraculously early thanks to an unexpected guest speaker cancellation, I was like a floppy parsnip (or similar root vegetable), virtually incapable of doing anything. Forced myself to wander into town to peruse the magazine racks – try and select a suitable one to try and pitch the next features assignment to. But because I really resent forking out £3 or more to buy a crappy mag, I end up buying the cheapskate versions – really shitty ones that you can't imagine they pay anyone, to have anything published in it, ever!

Home via the co-op, where by this point I'd slipped into hyper-reality zone – like tripping, only without having ingested any drugs whatsoever. Complete with spacial awareness distortion, and freaky, detached sensations – as if you're out of body, but you're not. Hard to explain, I just know that my mind is having fun and games at my sanity's (and health's) expense. It cannot be good for me, but what can I do? Deadlines must be met – the work must be done. I come last in that equation. And so do my kids.

Guilt tripping myself big time on that count. Bad, bad, bad mother.

Having had to endure a crap night behind the bar last night, made bearable by the lovely Wendy's presence, but otherwise appalling, I still didn't manage to catch up on lost sleep. Another long day at college – routine come home, tidy stuff, cook dinner, load washing machine, wash dishes etc..

Made an effort to give Billy some time by having a game of chess (which I won) but then had to head out the door to go to a benefit gig at the Union. An extremely worthy cause – raising money for a guy who's recently had an accident, which has left him paralysed from about chest height down. Poor bastard. Really chuffed that they collected nearly £2000, but angry that he needs to pay for his own wheelchair. Disgraceful. Reminded me that Al has been in his wheelchair for nearly 15yrs now. Must make contact (I am so bad at keeping in touch) and with my mum. Was talking about it to Jane and Tori tonight – can't understand why I'm being so particularly bad at communicating with them right now. All this writing and emailing and the phone's only just downstairs...Will ring Sunday. Make sure I do.

Can't believe it's 1.30am already. I 've got to go to bed. Now.