Tuesday, November 15, 2005

a thought. It's probably not sleeping I have a problem with. It's just the letting go of awake. 11:44:16 PM    well, yes, but...  [] the great blogcabin insomnia cure contest... Okay. It's time to seek help. And I'm seeking it from you. We're going to see if the best blog readers on earth -- Blogcabiners -- can cure me of my sleep disorder. Do you have an old folk remedy you swear by? A lifestyle change you tried that, like choosing one of two roads in the woods, has made all the difference? A cure-all of epic proportions? It's time to share! Here's how it works: Today, in the comments box, leave the details of your cure or your optimal sleep preparation system. Tell me exactly how you implement it, what I need to make it happen, and how it has worked for you or someone you know. For the next week, I will try one of the best methods or cures every night and report on the success/failure of the system the next morning. What you should know: I am not giving up my morning latte, which enters my system at 8 am daily. I will give up the extra shot of espresso in it, if need be. I go to bed at approximately 11 pm every night, but can go earlier or later, depending on the cure. I can eat dinner at any time in the evening. I have many locations around me where I can get weird herbs and essential oils. I'm ready to try almost anything, unless it involves running naked down my street. Ha -- I bet I just eliminated half the cures! Anyhow, line 'em up, kids. Let's see if blogging can't change this aspect of my life, too. This will be your reward to me for leaving so many posts that you feel overwhelmed if you don't stop by daily (you think I don't plan it that way?). Go! (Oh, yeah. And the swan stays.) 6:52:49 AM    well, yes, but...  [] they say that waking up is hard to do... I'm not really good at falling asleep. Some people are, some people aren't. I don't feel like a failure or anything; I just don't fall asleep quickly or easily. Much in the same way that I can't do calculus without removing a portion of my hair through compulsive tearing, or cut bread without making each slice look like a portion of Stonehenge. I should really get some good knives. But I digress. It stands to reason that if I have a hard time falling asleep, I'm going to be reluctant to leave once I get there. I mean, having to wake up right after you finally nod off is like flying to Australia for ice cream and then hopping back on your plane to head home ten minutes later. Actually, that sounds kind of fun, in a "champagne wishes and caviar dreams!" kind of way. (Does anyone know why Robin Leach yells all the time?) Okay, then -- maybe it's like ordering the best restaurant meal in the whole world -- but having to send it back to the kitchen after one bite. And not because your're one of those people who gets their jollies from stressing out the waiter, but because that's all you're allowed to eat. That's how I feel about sleeping, unless I can lie in bed until my body has completed a REM cycle or two. Usually, though, I get about four to five hours of time that resembles sleep, but actually consists of: flipping around like a trout on the floor of a boat yawning at the ceiling attempting not to stare at the clock radio popping open the iBook to check email (I get them all night!) wiggling my toes counting lethargic sheep swearing softly when I notice that I can only keep trying to sleep for another hour or two thinking about ways to expand my global empire Not exactly restful-sounding, is it? If -- by some trick of fate, chamomile tea, exhaustion or head injury -- I actually fall into a deeply somnolent state, my body is beyond irked when you try and wake it back up. But my clock radio doesn't seem to care if I hate it or not, the way it yells at me first thing in the morning. I suggested that we spend some time bonding or get counselling, but no -- yell, yell, yell. Jerk. Once I've been startled by a noise that sounds like a cross between a fire alarm and the Emergency Broadcast System ("This is not a test. Get your ass out of bed."), I do five things in rapid succession: Lie wide-eyed, waiting for heart rate to go down Curl up in a tiny, warm ball, simulating a snail shell that will protect me from the morning Stretch aggressively and oddly under my covers, with poses both yogic and awkward Sigh deeply Fall back asleep Ooops. So, the truth is out: there is one time of day I find it easy to fall asleep. The morning. Like... now. Mmm. I could turn out the light and catch five more minutes rest, maybe... No! Okay, get up. Really. Now. Now. Okay.... NOW! The last portion of the wakeup process that makes it all so completely unpleasant is what awaits me in the mirror when I finally haul myself from underneath the covers: My hair, having begun the night in a loose braid, is now sticking in forty directions, with a small portion of it knotted impossibly tightly around an elastic. My face features some or all of the following: pillow lines, ring imprints from my hand, puffy eyeballs, scratches from my bedside table, extreme grimacing/squintiness, and whatever portion of mascara hid from my cleanser the night before (which would generally be most of it). Yay raccoon eyes! I could go tear apart my own garbage and no one would blink an eye. My clothing -- a tank top and pajama bottoms -- is twisted about me like an Issey Miyake couture outfit. Yes, once I get a look at this vision, the idea of hitting the sack again -- if only to spare the world from the horror! -- is only too appealing. Just not hitting it too hard, since clearly I've already done enough damage. Waking up is really hard to do. You'd think I'd get better at it, since I try and do it every day. But since that hasn't worked with walking or speaking coherently, I don't know why I'm surprised. 5:31:15 AM    well, yes, but...  []

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