Walking Sleep

Well, back to the blog after a long weekend. Friday was off and life was good. Living here without any sense of when the holidays are is great, because they always sneak up on me. And then someone says, "Surprise, you have Friday off!" and I say, "Excellent, I love this county."

After three days off, I always have these far-fetched hopes and dreams that I will walk into work on Monday morning well rested and refreshed… but I really don’t think that has ever happened in my life. So, after a long weekend of being more social than usual, I lay down last night and couldn’t sleep. So I ended up watching a movie until 4 AM thinking to myself, "Oh great, good work, ya stupid no sleepin’ chump." And, of course, now I’m sitting at my desk feeling like a used coffee filter, you know, all full of soggy grounds, completely useless, but smelling of past potential.

Not being able to sleep when I really, really want to has been the bane of my existence since late 1993. It’s about the worst feeling in the world, except maybe for that gut-riling stab of heart-break that only the cold hand of femininity can wield, you know the one, where she drives a metaphorical ice-pick into your chest and twists, and then twists some more, and just when you think the twisting is over, that’s when the real twisting begins.… you know… that feeling. Anyway, not sleeping is a terrible cycle for a brain like mine because it refuses to shut down. First I start thinking about how much I want to sleep, then I start thinking about how I can’t sleep, then I get angry about not sleeping, then I get desperate, then my mind says, "Ah screw it," and goes for revenge by bringing up all the issues or past problems in my life like some kind of film-reel of guilt.

And then, invariably, the next day at some point, while complaining about my own insomnia I end up talking to the "Perfect Sleeper" These people are annoying as hell and look like they should be in a mattress commercial. They’re the type of people that stretch luxuriously when the alarm goes off, give a big stagey yawn and jump out of bed to meet the day. I hate them, especially when they tell me how they fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow. And they always say it with this sanctimonious, satisfied smile on their face, and I always smile and say "Wow, that’s great, I wish I were like that!" But what I’m thinking is, "I will kill you now… or perhaps I will kill you in your sleep… your precious sleep." But the feeling passes quickly and usually I only have the desire to punch them in the teeth.