Sleepy Time

Hello all,

So, you ask... how is that you are able to do all of the things that you clearly do and still maintain a blog, logging all of your exploits with precision. My answer is simple, and I whole-heartedly recommend my method to all of you readers out there who are capable of the same feat... I don't sleep. Okay, well, that is a slight exaggeration, but on average, I would say, nowadays, I approximatley sleep about, roughly, three hours and forty nine minutes or so per day give or take (a day is classified as around a 24-hour period). The minimal sleep saves an incredible amount of time, during which you can scarcely do anything active, but you can certainly do something passive. In these wee hours, you can hardly utilize your brain with great functionality, but you can definitely use your fingers, and hence my blog. You could barely muster emotions, but you could easily unleash sarcasm. So, today, I wish to talk about this most auspicious of topics, so vital to so many, and such so onerous to others.

I have had difficulties sleeping for many years, and during the course of that time, it has varied from a difficulty falling asleep to a difficulty staying asleep, and I have landed comfortably on both for now. I have often agonized on theories why this natural process did not come naturally to me, even as I made a number of attempts to rectify the situation in various ways. I can't remember when exactly it actually started, but in high school, it was not a major issue because I was a kid, a dynamo, and even though I would lie around at night perusing yesterday, skimming tomorrow, and figuring out when they merge, it was not a substantial hindrance as I was able to manage the exhaustion the next day. Each morning, I slowly rolled my way back into alertness. In college, the sleeplessness became a larger issue because I would try to accomplish things during those ungodly hours, either studying, drinking, or hanging out; so the next day, I would be extremely fatigued and there would be little respite, as I would repeat my routine daily. So, then I tried "self-medicating" with various forms of alcohol or Nyquil (which is inadvisable according to the warning label). I followed up the self-medicating, with medical medicating, which resulted in similar outcomes, I was even more tired when I went to bed, and because my body, my mind, or my very soul resisted sleep, I was even more tired the next day. I've tried counting sheep and soothing music, I've tried reading and blindfolds, and being tucked in, along with various combinations of methods. The one that worked best was recording myself and listening to myself talk about biology, but it only worked for a short time. Now, unfortunately, I have come to accept the role of sleep in my life as a mere afterthought.

What is it that keeps me awake? Someone said neurosis, someone else said "racing thoughts", someone else said anxiety, and someone else said TV, bad eating habits, and caffeine (with my penchant for diet cola), but while I don't disagree with any of these, I think the answer is much more philosophical. I AM neurotic and I do analyze every aspect of my prior day and every prospect for the coming day, as far as I see fit. So, if you laughed at something that I said, chances are, I am lying around at night trying to figure out why it was funny and what could make it funnier. I am thinking about the meeting tomorrow and what I am actually going to say and what I would say if I were Charlton Heston going into that meeting, and how hard to shake hands with people as I step out of that meeting. I am also obsessive, so I am definitely always thinking about whether doors are locked, whether my mail went out, and whether the stove is off. I am also mildly paranoid, so I remember who was looking in my direction as I was entering my building, waiting for me to leave an unlocked door, who had access to my stove that might have turned it on, (just to mess with me,) and I consider the possibility that the person who gets my mail pretends they never got it. So, I am rarely surprised about anything. I think about grand things like what would be the first thing I did if I had one wish, or, if I had an infinite number of wishes, what would be my first entirely selfish wish? (Maybe my third wish would be something totally selfish). I think about morose things, as I consider what would be the best way to end, (definitely not like the Sopranos), and how my family will cope after I'm gone... and about heavy things like whether I am ready for a serious relationship or kids. I think about language and morals, such as how most adages pretty much teach the same lesson, like "the grass is always greener on the other side" and "don't cry over spilled milk" which have very diverse messages, but both encourage people to understand the positive aspects of what they have.

I think a lot about good and evil. I think about God and whether God has ever actually responded to a prayer, or is just as vane as I was taught God is. And, I consider how much nobler our vision of God and gods have become over time; while they were once animated objects and ideas to be feared, but now we use science, philosophy, or psychology to explain the ills of the world, and God is the remaining idea to explain the good that we don't fully understand. I think about my family alot, and how my Dad always preaches an overarching balance in the world, and how he wrote a whole novel about it, The Balancing Game, even as he credits me for my minimal contributions. So, really, I got this good and evil obsession from him. I think about my mom and how she is an insomniac too, and I wonder what she's thinking about right then. I think about my brother and how proud I am of him and where he is going to be five years from now and where he was five years ago, and my grandfather and what the world was like for him at my age, and what the world will be like for him when I'm his age... and about my cousins and how well they are all doing so far, how much I had to do with how well they are doing, and how I can have more of an impact in their lives. I think about my clients and my co-workers, the facts and the issues, my responsibilities, and my burdens. I think about my friends that I haven't seen for a really long time and if it would still be fun to do all the stupid things we did back then... and about my current friends and how it's amazing that they are thriving despite all the stupid things I've seen them do.

I think about celebrities, and how hot Angelina Jolie would be in person, or how if I met Brad Pitt, I would call him Mr. Pitt like I was a page at 30 Rock (or like Elaine's boss on Seinfeld). I wonder what it would be like to sleep with The Girl Next Door, and whether if the woman is famous enough, it is still uncouth to tell your friends about it (or maybe that makes it even more crass). Of course, I wonder, why would she want me? My answer usually entails me saving her from something, so that becomes my night day-dream, me saving her from something (and the danger varies, because I like to keep it fresh like Walter Mitty). I think about girls and what they don't like about me and how sometimes my "negatives" are exactly the same and sometimes they are polar opposites of what I don't like about me. I think about how the rich get all the advantages and opportunities, but how I don't fault them for that anymore, and how I would want to give the same things to my kids.

But, none of this strikes me as that unusual, and it would be a great explanation for a lack of sleep, except that even though I think about all of these things, I don't feel anything about them. None of these thoughts are fueling any emotions inside me sufficient to keep me awake. I've tried cutting out TV and caffeine for a month, I cut out all meat for a month, and I've attempted regular exercising, and none of those attempts worked, so although it might contribute, my diet and waking practices are unlikely to be the main factors in the sleeplessness. Moreover, I rarely if ever have nightmares anymore, though when I was about 10, I had a recurring nightmare of lights and shapes flying towards me in space, which still haunt me sometimes, but is not a primary cause for my sleeplessness nowadays (I also had a freaky recurring nightmare about finding gold in my grandparent's basement with a secret passageway to Europe where there was a vampire statue, but that's a story for another time. And most recently, I had a nightmare that a family I did not know, tricked me into marrying their daughter in an Eastern marriage ceremony, whence they blackmailed me for $400 and a ride home (to keep our marriage on the DL), and then when I refused to pay, they tried poisoning me with some pills, but I switched glasses, Vezzini style on them, and left them for dead (though unsure if they were dead.) And upon driving back home, I started thinking it was their plan all along to have me switch glasses on them and now they can blackmail me for more than $400. Yep, this is what I have to look forward to, when I do sleep.)

Instead of delving any further, I will tell you my latest theory, that aside from my disdain for yesterday and dread for tomorrow, I actually really can't get enough of today. In that sense I hate tomorrow's lack of now. It's the same reason, I have trouble putting food down because of the indelible urgency of now, as a presidential candidate beautifully phrased it. I'm not afraid of tomorrow; that day day just doesn't exist. It's a figment of our collective imagination and we all blindly proscribe to this notion. There is no tomorrow and there never was one. It's just an idea, but today, now, is right here, and we have one last chance at making the most of it. That is why I watch as much TV as possible, view as many movies as I can, and I am constantly living life to the fullest. Okay, other than first two things, none of the rest of that last sentence was true. But, what is true is that, the idea that this, here now, is not all there is, makes me awfully anxious. And like a child frightened of flying through space, I lay dormant regetting tomorrow for several hours before reluctantly passing out and waking up with a jolt of the new day a few hours before I go to work. Over the next few hours, I regain my faculties, and when I do, I clean myself and start my day. I come home 13 hours later, ready for my next round of TV and movies and postponing the woeful nightmare that is trying to fall asleep for as long as I can. That along with my diet and lack of excercise makes me look older, balder, worn downer, with poorer posture, and ruefully sweaty for a guy who is not yet 28.

So, when you see me walking around all chipper, you should know, that it is not my natural state, it's hard goshdarn work making me look that pretty. So, appreciate it.

Fast asleep,
Papa Bear