Frustrated Anna is, well, frustrated.

I'm having trouble sleeping these days and have been for a while now. I'm tired and all but then I get to bed and I just lay there. Turning over and adjusting pillows and huffing and puffing until I finally just get up and do something or read until I'm tired again and the whole process repeats ad infinitum.

I cannot figure it out. I've never had issues sleeping. Never, ever. I could seriously sleep through the next World War. I have no doubt about it.

Except for now. Now I'd be awake to fight it. I'm not sure whose good fortune that would be but if WWIII pops off anytime soon we're good, as long as we fight it from the hours of 1-4 AM EST.

After doing some pseduo-serious soul searching (I tend to not do it a lot because what I find is somewhat disturbing. Not crazy ax-murderer shit but enough conundrums and circular logic to drive any sane person batty. It's easier just to stay out of it and let it be.) I've discovered that I, Anna Gray, am Frustrated.

Yes, Frustrated with a capital 'F.' An all-encompassing frustration that is indicative of a proper noun. I don't believe I need to spell it out.

But what is a girl to do? She tries to combat the Frustration with exercise and that helps but it really doesn't get to the crux of the problem. No, this is a resolute and unyielding frustration.

It looks as if our hero Captain Cynical will be waiting it out because that seems to be the only solution that has presented itself currently. Either that or I can get over myself and invest in that whole 'Skype' thing.

As for the sleeping issue I'll just try a double shot of jack and a tranquilizer or two. That seems reasonable.