I can't sleep.
I wish I could sleep.
I wish a wave of relaxation would wash over my back.
I wish I felt Kensho at work.
I wish people didn't get cancer.
I wish my mind didn't take imprints of people during the day.
I wish my mind would be fully present and fully not engaged.
People are like quicksand.
Or I am an idiot.
(As in, don't step in and you won't fall down.)
I wish I wasn't an idiot.
I wish I didn't move so fast.
I wish there was a place within walking distance of work that had really good sushi.
I wish Health South would pay back my whole student loan.
I wish we could afford a house before I'm 40.
I wish I had ever gone to a James Brown concert.
I wish there was time (and a place) to go for a 20-minute jog every day at lunch.
I wish I could do speech therapy in a treehouse.
I wish there was a pulley system whereby 85-year-olds could come up without too much trouble.
I wish they would like it.
I wish we could eat the sushi up there.
I wish birds would land on branches near the treehouse.
I wish lizards would wiggle nearby, too.
I wish I ever practiced the violin.
I wish work was done every day at 2.
I wish I could take the long view.
I wish I did something productive with my energy.
I wish I felt as good every afternoon as I do every morning.
I wish the sun was shining and Neil and I were on a walk.