INSOMNIA @ 3am

It's 3am this Saturday dawn, I'm awake once again 'cos my mind won't go to sleep. My body feels the exhaustion of the week, but my brain wants more. I'm trying real hard to drown out these many voices that seem so loud in the quiet of the night. Louder, even than the cock crowing (who owns these chickens anyway?). I'm tempted to muffle these hyperactive thoughts with a fridge raid although I know I'll be afraid to stand on the scale in the morning.

My body wishes to forget about the week's happenings, but my brain, adamant in it pursuit, wants to subject every little detail to scrutiny. It is anxiety mixed with regret and topped with relief in many instances. Somehow, my brain needs to settle with itself before it can project its might toward the incoming week. Yes, I agree, annoying. But my head won't rest lest it comes to terms with itself! Forget about being in control. When my mind wants something done, everything else must settle for a back seat position - even me. Sleep, in this instance will have no say in the matter.



Allowing myself to get carried away in the wave of thoughts dancing in my head, I can't but agree with myself that this has been no ordinary week. My life received some altering nudges that will ultimately lead to a complete redirection. Although I was seemingly able to brush it off into the recess of the memory, sleep returned it to the fore so I could deal with it. I agree that I may not be the world's best philosopher, but I do believe nonetheless that I deserve some credit for stringing enough thoughts per minute that provoke and punch holes in my life and that which affects me on the daily.

So at this I've shifted from point D to E. I'm asking myself now, before I sink in too deep, is this what I want? Do I truly want to sign up for this? Am I ready enough to deal? Do I wish to proceed with the opening up of Pandora's box or would I rather settle for something even keel? My life is about to change in ways hitherto only imagined. I'm loving the thought of it now but will my sentiments then, jigsaw with my fears? Or will it be all I imagined it'll be? Choice begets even more choices.

Inasmuch as the 'should've known' principle sneers at you from all corners of the debate, 'experience' alone must afford you the chance to sneer right back. Because no matter how bad you "should've known" will scoff, experience will always stand its ground and will be sure to inform the decision of tomorrow. My head can go to rest now because strangely through these mumbled up thoughts I've made some sort of alternate sense to myself.

Good Mother: WHAT IS WRENT IS WRENT.

I'll give you a minute to ponder over that statement......

Moment over.

What did you come up with? I know. What in the blazes does that mean? What could they possibly be saying to us?

Picture me cruising through town and WHOA-BAM! I see this right in front of me. For 3 whole hours, my mind was on this one statement. What the heck are they trying to tell us? I mean, if this was meant to be a brain teaser, then it sure is working its magic. I chewed on this for a while and decided it wasn't worth the brain power. I simply gave up. "Good Mother: What is WRENT is WRENT." I mean, I mean, I mean. I've seen my fair share of incredulous writing, but this, this, oh this takes the cake.

One of many possibilities. He could be complaining about his rent. Perhaps he's trying to say what is gone is gone? You know, don't cry over spilt milk and all that and instead of WENT, ended up saying WRENT. But why the "R"?
A barrage of questions just flooded my head. Maybe it's time I gave up my decrypting title. I've held this title for a while now and perhaps it is time for me to hang my gloves.

Thank God for the company of smart minds. After driving about a while with my friend, we started talking and it just hit us. WHAT IS WRITTEN IS WRITTEN!!! Forget about the Good Mother bit. A good mother is no match for what is WRENT. Absolutely no contest. Months after he applauded his mother for her help in his life, he realized that he still couldn't change the path life has strung for him so he decided that upon all the goodness of his mother, WHAT IS WRENT IS still WRENT. I mean, what is life if things are not "WRENTED"? I hope I'm using the right tense here. WRENT could be past participle all on its own. Unless we opt for WRENTED as the pp. It's entirely up to us.

I'm just as amazed as you all are. An experience like that can completely traumatize you and leave your mind powerless. As good as I thought I was with deciphering the most garbled text, yet again, tro tro drivers on a daily, prove to me that you're just as good as your last scrambled/misspelt word. But now, I believe that I've passed the test. My WRENTing episode has widened my scope and spurred me unto greater and higher standards of malformed writings with exceptional and deep meanings only to the enquiring and trained mind. Not for the faint-hearted. I promise you.




Just when you think you've seen it all, another slaps you in the face! Take this for instance. LEAP BEFORE YOU LOOK. Here I was all my life thinking we should Look first, then we LEAP. But this taxi driver thinks otherwise. A very new and outlandish approach to success in life is to first take a LEAP and while you're in between the brief moments of suspense and the hard concrete (or sharpened spikes, depending on your situation), you LOOK down and see how fast you're falling. Maybe next time you won't LEAP as fast or as hard. Forget about it all, throw caution to the wind and just take a LEAP of faith. Maybe you might live to tell the story...or maybe not.

The Street Shrink is on the prowl and will be back another day with a little something for everyone...