Sleepless in Berkeley

Normally I have a clear run, cycling through Berkeley at midnight from my shift on the crisis hotline. Tonight, though, there were two cars traveling in opposite directions up and down one thoroughfare (I had to take a foot off the pedal) and a white limo U-turned on University Avenue just ahead of me. A dog-walker quietly picked up after her large, black dog, someone was walking home from Bart, there was a car filling up at the gas station and a pedestrian with oddly tied hair walked across San Pablo. It reminded me of the night I drove back from the hills and encountered a man clad in only a blue surgeon's gown and a black trash bag, and there was a large deer with fine antlers crossing the road. I was glad to be in a car that night.

My inspiration for this blog was one written by someone I met online, which was disarmingly open and endearingly authentic. That is a hard act to follow. The biggest problem is that many of my thoughts are about other people, and I worry about betraying their trust by writing about them or about our relationships. So I've decided to write as though I were writing to the person in question. You (you know who you are if you're reading this) inspired my blog, with your mix of Leaves of Grass energy, Woody Allen angst and Tristram Shandy quirkiness. Thank you.

I am taking an e-mail diet. I will only be checking my e-mail Monday morning and Wednesday or Thursday. Perhaps this will help me find time for writing my dissertation, strengthen my bonds with the real people in my life, and last but not least promote sleep...