The Truth About Not Sleeping
I have a severe sleep disorder. Disorder meaning I am tired at four in the afternoon and then not again for the rest of the day.
Here’s how it goes: I get into bed around eleven p.m. planning to read whatever book I am trying to get through.
I say: “trying to get through” not because I don’t enjoy reading, but because I am a terribly slow reader. For someone who plans on making her life work novel and short story writing, I have no skill when it comes to putting my eyes to the page. I could probably write you a book faster than I could read one. This is both good and bad.
Anyway, I settle myself into bed and start reading. About half way through my first page I think: “Water. I definitely don’t have enough water,” although there is clearly a full glass mere inches from my pillow.
Then, once I’ve emptied a perfectly good glass of H2O and filled a new one, I will sit down in bed again and open my book.
“Email.” I think. I should definitely check my email before I go to sleep. So I get up and sit at my computer and check my email. Of course, no one has emailed me since I last checked a half hour ago, so I proceed on to livejournal and craigslist.
Inevitably, Triscuts come to mind and I find myself reading the “missed connection” posts while smearing cream cheese on slabs of delicious cracker.
It is now two a.m.
I realize it is two a.m. and try to get into bed and sleep. I sweat. I sweat and think about how I was accidentally rude to a guy on the train a year and a half ago and I should probably find him and buy him a chocolate bar.
It is now three a.m.
At some point between three and four I usually pass out only to be awoken again at five to the sounds of Kiss 108 attempting to jar my roommate from her undisturbed slumber. She turns the alarm off around six and I am free to nap for another hour or two before I hit the bookjail or laundry mat.
The whole thing is awesome. I recommend it.
Here’s how it goes: I get into bed around eleven p.m. planning to read whatever book I am trying to get through.
I say: “trying to get through” not because I don’t enjoy reading, but because I am a terribly slow reader. For someone who plans on making her life work novel and short story writing, I have no skill when it comes to putting my eyes to the page. I could probably write you a book faster than I could read one. This is both good and bad.
Anyway, I settle myself into bed and start reading. About half way through my first page I think: “Water. I definitely don’t have enough water,” although there is clearly a full glass mere inches from my pillow.
Then, once I’ve emptied a perfectly good glass of H2O and filled a new one, I will sit down in bed again and open my book.
“Email.” I think. I should definitely check my email before I go to sleep. So I get up and sit at my computer and check my email. Of course, no one has emailed me since I last checked a half hour ago, so I proceed on to livejournal and craigslist.
Inevitably, Triscuts come to mind and I find myself reading the “missed connection” posts while smearing cream cheese on slabs of delicious cracker.
It is now two a.m.
I realize it is two a.m. and try to get into bed and sleep. I sweat. I sweat and think about how I was accidentally rude to a guy on the train a year and a half ago and I should probably find him and buy him a chocolate bar.
It is now three a.m.
At some point between three and four I usually pass out only to be awoken again at five to the sounds of Kiss 108 attempting to jar my roommate from her undisturbed slumber. She turns the alarm off around six and I am free to nap for another hour or two before I hit the bookjail or laundry mat.
The whole thing is awesome. I recommend it.