This post is for my fellow night owls and insomniacs!

So here I am again, staring at my ceiling fan like it holds the secrets to the universe. You know that feeling when your brain decides bedtime is actually the perfect moment to become a philosophical debate club? Yeah, that’s me right now at 3:25 AM, and I figured I might as well document this mental chaos for your entertainment.

The Writing Projects That Haunt Me

First up on tonight’s agenda: my writing projects. You’d think my brain would be tired enough to give these a rest, but nope! Instead, it’s doing this thing where it replays every single plot hole in my current manuscript like a broken record.

“Remember that character you introduced in chapter three?” my brain whispers. “The one who was supposed to be crucial to the story? What happened to her again?”

Oh right, she vanished into thin air because I forgot about her entirely. Thanks for the reminder, brain. Really helpful at 2 AM when I can’t exactly fire up the laptop without waking everyone in a three-mile radius.

Then there’s the short story Halloween collection I started a little over 2 years ago. My nocturnal mind loves to remind me that I have exactly 18 half-finished stories sitting in various notebooks around my house. Some are scribbled into Field Notes notebooks, others typed frantically into my notes app during random moments of inspiration that I can barely remember.

Society’s Greatest Hits (Or Misses)

Speaking of things that keep me up at night – anyone else occasionally spiral about the general state of everything? No? Just me? Cool.

My 2 AM brain has some thoughts about society these days. Like, when did we collectively decide that arguing with strangers on the internet was a productive use of our time? I find myself wondering if we’re all just shouting into the void, hoping someone will validate our existence with a little heart emoji.

And don’t get me started on how we’ve somehow made basic human kindness controversial. My sleep-deprived mind keeps circling back to this weird reality where being considerate to others is seen as weakness rather than, you know, just being a decent person.

The whole social media thing really gets to me during these late-night thinking sessions. We’re more connected than ever, yet somehow lonelier too. It’s like we’re all performing happiness instead of actually living it.

Financial Anxiety Theater, Starring My Bank Account

Oh, and then there’s the money stuff. Because nothing says “peaceful slumber” like contemplating the fragility of our entire economic system, right?

My brain loves to play this fun game called “What If Everything Crashes Tomorrow? What if all my 401k money disappears?” It’s super relaxing. I’ll be lying there, almost drifting off, when suddenly I’m calculating how many cans of beans I could afford if the dollar became worthless.

The housing market alone is enough to send my thoughts into overdrive. When did buying a home become like winning the lottery? I remember my parents talking about saving up for a down payment like it was actually achievable, not some mythical quest requiring sacrifices to ancient gods.

Credit scores, inflation, student loans – my 2 AM brain treats these topics like they’re the most fascinating subjects on earth. It’s exhausting being financially anxious when I should be recharging for another day of pretending I have my life together.

The Inevitable March of Time

And because my brain apparently enjoys torture, it always circles back to aging. Not in a graceful, “wisdom comes with experience” way, but more like “Holy crap, when did I become someone who makes noise when standing up?”

I caught myself complaining about “kids these days” last week, and it hit me that I’ve officially crossed some invisible line into proper adulthood. When did that happen? One day I was figuring out college, and now I’m here googling whether that weird pain in my knee means I’m falling apart.

The worst part is how time seems to be moving faster. Remember when summer vacation felt like an eternity? Now entire seasons blur together like someone hit fast-forward on life itself.

Random 2 AM Thoughts That Demand Attention

But wait, there’s more! My brain isn’t satisfied with just the big existential stuff. It also needs to remind me about:

• That awkward thing I said in seventh grade that literally no one else remembers
• Whether I remembered to lock the front door (spoiler: I always did, but I’ll check anyway)
• Whether I took my evening pills
• If my houseplants are judging my plant-parenting skills
• Why hot dogs come in packs of ten but buns come in packs of eight
• What my life would be like if I’d really learned to play piano instead of abandoning it like I did

The randomness is truly spectacular. One minute I’m pondering the meaning of existence, the next I’m wondering if my cat thinks I’m a disappointing roommate.

Making Peace with the Night Mind

Here’s what I’ve learned about these 2 AM mental adventures: fighting them is pointless. My brain is going to do its thing regardless of how tired I am or how early I need to wake up.

Instead, I’ve started treating these sessions like informal therapy. Sometimes the random thoughts lead to actual insights about my writing or life goals. Other times, they’re just mental white noise that eventually exhausts itself.

I keep a notebook by my bed now for the truly brilliant (or completely ridiculous) ideas that strike during these moments. Morning me is often confused by notes like “purple elephants = financial freedom???” but occasionally there’s something worth exploring.

The key is not taking it all too seriously. Yes, society has issues. Yes, money is stressful. Yes, we’re all getting older. But none of these problems are going to be solved by my anxious 2 AM overthinking.

So here I am, sharing my nocturnal brain dump with you lovely humans. Maybe you relate, maybe you think I’m completely nuts – either way, I appreciate you reading along with my midnight musings.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to attempt sleep again. Wish me luck – my brain just remembered I never finished that book I started six months ago…

1. I grew up in a house without hot running water. Yep—luxury was a kettle and a dream.
2. We had a wood cook stove in the kitchen, and my childhood basically smelled like smoke and boiled potatoes.
3. I can’t eat any kind of fish or seafood. I’m basically Poseidon’s worst dinner guest.
4. Ruffles chips own my soul. Other chips don’t even tempt me.
5. I lived and studied in France in the 80s and bawled like a baby at the airport when I had to come home.
6. My childhood home was a mile down a dirt road. Picture Little House on the Prairie but with disco music.
7. My parents spoke Finnish and English but tragically never passed on the Finnish. (So no, I can’t curse at you in three languages—just two.)
8. My first car was a ’66 Plymouth station wagon I bought at 12 with babysitting money. Yes, I was driving at 11. Don’t tell my future insurance company.
9. We had an 8-family party line for a phone. Everyone’s business was everyone’s business.
10. About the time my friends noticed girls, I started noticing my friends. (Plot twist!)
11. While studying in France, I met a dreamy French boy and we zipped from Paris to Nice on his motorcycle. Best semester break ever.
12. At 16, I had a mustache and goatee and could buy booze for my friends. Fake ID? Didn’t need one. I had facial hair.
13. I ran away from home at 16 and never looked back. Independent streak: unlocked.
14. I once ran a Tarot consulting business. Yes, I’ve read people’s futures (and occasionally their bad boyfriends).
15. I taught French at a university. Oui oui, baguette.
16. Then I pivoted and designed databases. From verbs to variables.
17. My forever favorite book series is Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. Pure joy.
18. At 16, I saw Carrie twelve times in the theater. I can probably recite it better than Sissy Spacek.
19. My first concert was Foreigner, and I smuggled in orange-flavored vodka. Regret that flavor choice to this day.
20. I used to play the harp until my wrists staged a full rebellion.
21. I have one sibling—a sister.
22. We’re both adopted.
23. My grandparents emigrated from Finland.
24. My last name in Finnish translates to “sandfly” or “no-see-um.” Basically, a mosquito with a PR problem.
25. People think I’m extroverted. Truth? I need three business days to recover from one social event.
26. I’ve been to somewhere between 200–300 weddings.
27. To be fair, I officiated most of them. (No, I didn’t just crash them all.)
28. My shortest job ever was as a telemarketer selling storm windows. I lasted two days and still feel itchy about it.
29. I spend way too much money on stationery and planners. (But my To-Do lists are gorgeous.)
30. I once met Vincent Price when he stayed at the hotel where I worked. Horror movie squeal.
31. As a room service waiter at a 4-star hotel, I also met Charles Nelson Riley and Phyllis Diller. Showbiz bingo card: stamped.
32. My proudest achievement? Earning my Master’s degree in Foreign Language and Literature. Blood, sweat, and a lot of French verbs went into that.
33. I once brought home a pet rat from my Psychology class. He was smarter than most of my classmates. I named him Socrates.
34. Spain is my favorite country (so far)—gorgeous, warm, and kind. France is my soulmate country though, so I’m torn.
35. I’m terrified of tight, enclosed spaces. An MRI is my literal nightmare fuel.
36. I used to have a recurring childhood nightmare of being buried alive. (No wonder I hate enclosed spaces!)
37. Summer is my jam because cold weather is evil. Beaches used to be my happy place.
38. In college, I dressed up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter and lip-synced “Sweet Transvestite.” When I dropped my cape, my teacher panicked and ran up to shut the door. I got an A in the class.
39. My birth name was John, but my adoptive parents renamed me Roger. Secretly? I like “Jon” better.