Where is E.T. when I need him?

I finished Middlesex tonight. Don't know what to say about it right now, if ever.

Right after I finished Middlesex, I started Dave Pelzer's A Child Called "It" and finished it in about three hours. The whole thing. I don't know how to feel about it. I don't really feel anything, actually. Not rage, sadness, disgust, horror, pain, pity, or any of the other feelings that some other people feel after reading that book. Mostly...I feel numb, which isn't really a feeling. I'm also leaning toward guilt, but I can't quite get there.

I am slowly destroying myself with sleep deprivation. I turned my alarm off this morning without waking up. Five hours was not enough, and I did not regain consciousness until after 11, when my mom had already come home from church (to which I had planned to go). Right now, it is nearly 4 AM, and I am awake because I had to finish the book and because I needed to post this entry. I will go to sleep after this, and I hope I will have no more dreams about being stung by scorpions or working for Hugh Hefner. No more. There are purple circles under my eyes that never leave and get worse by the day, and I wonder if people at work have noticed at all.

Last night at dinner, I realized that I had forgotten to request off the date of Ben's wedding this Saturday, and I was scheduled to work until 7:25 in the evening. The wedding starts at 7. Mom told me I needed to find someone to switch with me or take my shift, or I would simply not be going to the wedding. I sat down at the table to eat my soup, but I couldn't and I didn't want any food. Not to be overly dramatic here, but there isn't a better word for it. I sobbed for a long time and tried to tell my mom what was the matter, but the words do not exist. I said I felt stupid for making such a mistake, and she told me not to make such a big deal of it: everybody makes mistakes. She meant it as an encouragement, but she didn't and still does not have any idea how often I cry like that or why. I forced some of my dinner down, washed my face and fixed my hair, went to work even though it was my day off, and studied the schedule until I found a way to fix it. Mom said, "Honey, you don't have to take care of this tonight." And I said, "Yeah, I really do." James let me switch with him, so now I can go to the wedding. While I feel better about having fixed my mistake, I don't feel any better about anything else.

Ah, there's the guilt.

My own personal theory after reading Hebrews 1 today is that Lucifer turned his back on God because he was jealous of Jesus for being God's beloved and only Son. Lucifer was angry that God would never favor him the way God favored Jesus, he would never sit at God's right hand, would never be exalted and praised like Jesus, the Son of God. So Lucifer, in his jealous, power-hungry, rejection-fueled rage, left God's presence and became the Evil One, just to spite the Father who would never call him "Son." That's what my imagination thinks, anyway.

I'm going to bed now, and Hugh Hefner better stay the hell out of my dreams.