Trying to Catch Some Zs...but Unfortunately, Like All My Previous Attempts at Athleticism, I Drop the Zs and My Dad Calls Me a "Fag"

The Kid Fell Again.


Please allow me to back track a little:


By nature I'm an insomniac. I don't know why this is...I just always prefer to stay up later. I prefer going to bed as the sun rises, rather than waking up with the Dawn of a new day. I find my circadian rhythm matches the beat of a Velvet Underground song that spirals and thrives in the wee hours of the morning. In high School and college I would stay up til about 5 or 7 in the morning. Then I would go to school, or class, and function all right.

The times, they are a-becoming quite different. Now I'm a Citizen who has to wake up at 7 AM and go to my job in my biz-casual finery. So the transition from Late Night Slackster to Bushy Tailed Morning Person is slowly begun, and it's going about as well as Jennifer Love Hewitt's music career (Rrreow!). No matter how early I wake up, or how hard I work, I'm usually not tired. And spend my nights unable to sleep until about 2 or 3 in the morning.

What this means is that sleep is a precious commodity to me. And like that other precious commodity, Money, I'm unable to manage it properly and I desperately desire more of it. Unfortunately, I can't hope that my Grandmother will die and bequeathe all of her sleep to me in her Will (for the record - the same is true of my money situation).

Most of my sleep is not preoccupied but crazy dreams. One of my friends, Keith, has a dream about once a week or so where he and a group of friends are being pursued by monsters, zombies, or some form of walking terror. While I'm sure it's kind of stressful, that sounds like some cool dreams. I have other friends who have dreams about hooking up with Celebrities, so they close their eyes and they're banging Lindsay Lohan and Heath Ledger. I either have no dreams, or just ones where I run around confused and trying to sort out a situation. The worst being when I couldn't make any sense of an expense report I was entering into the system. Not only was that dream stressful, it meant that my corporate identity was leaking into my unconsciousness; in essence, I've been infected by the Cubicle Life, and no part of me is safe -- not even Fantasyland. I woke up out of that dream in a cold sweat. Partly because the dream was filled with high anxiety, but also because I was realizing that now even my sleeping life was under siege.

Imagine some thing you get very little of in your life. Now make it so that whenever you get it, there's a good chance that it will be tainted, or bad, or stressful. Add those together and you get my sex life. Hi-Yo! But you also get my current situation with sleep.

So whenever I sleep, I savor it; I don't want to let it go. Every last minute is enjoyed...if I wake up even a half a minute before the alarm goes off, I'm pissed at myself. Just one more thing I've screwed up, I think to myself. I can't even sleep properly. Babies and demented old people can do that. But somehow, the fine art of sleeping has evaded my mastery. So I angrily get out of bed and prepare for my long day of self hatred and suicidal tendencies.

So imagine what sort of a mood I find myself when I'm woken up by the cacophony of something falling on the floor above me followed by the long wail of a child. At 5:50 in the morning. It's maybe one of the worst things to open your eyes to, because you're thinking 1) What the fuck was that? Maybe it didn't happen. 2) Is the child okay? and 3) That fucking piece of shit kid--doesn't he know it's 5:50 in the morning?

It's not a going to be a good day when you start out the morning cursing out a small child. But there I sat, in my bed, eyes pointed at the ceiling overhead where the loud tumbling noises stirred me from my sleep before being accompanied by the high pitch siren of a toddler's pain, muttering some of the most ruthless expletitives I know. I'm not proud of my actions. But on the other hand, it was such a jarring way to be awoken, that all I can think of is that "because that Little Bundle of Retarded Joy just fell, I have just lost an hour of sleep".

This is why I shouldn't be allowed to be a parent.

Cut to this morning--same fucking time. Exact same placement right above my head. Same thud. Same high pitched wail.

The kid fell again.

Now I know this isn't the most riveting post ever. What have we learned?

A) I like to sleep.
2) I'm self deprecating.
III) And I hate children.

Nothing interesting or even close to being novel or unique. But I guess the larger story is how the little things, the bare minimum joys we indulge in, are always constantly under attack. For example, my roommate loves himself some Football. I enjoy the game -- but not enough to have 3 fantasy teams, tell you which players played for what colleges, or even remember most of the players names. I like watching the games, but he loves The Game itself. A lot of his life is unfairly dominated by a job he hates, so wherever he can find solace and happiness, he soaks it up. Football is one of those respites of comfort. But even that oasis is under attack thanks to my nerdy behavior and tendency to annoy and chat.

How often are moments of tender coitus interrupted by untimely biological problems, unfortunate phone calls, distracting pets, inquisitive relatives and neighbors?

Can't enjoy your cigarette in peace without someone faux coughing or pushing you into the gutter like an Untouchable Indian Street Urchin?

How many times are watching a movie that we enjoy when some jackass won't shut up on his cell phone? It's A CELL PHONE! YOU CAN WALK AROUND WITH IT! GO AWAY!

How many meals are ruined by reckless salt shaking, inattentive service, and lousy conversation?

So if even our little grains of happiness are forfeit in this world, how can we be happy? Isn't entropy invading even our most private and innocent of indulgences?

For christ's sake, Where's the Silver Lining?

Cuz we still get enough to enjoy it.

I know, I know -- that sounds like such bullshit. Like when people say "Live For Today", or "Appreciate What You Got", or "Never Kiss a Hooker on the Mouth". And it's hard to appreciate something when SO MUCH of everything else is utter shite. It's hard to be satisfied with your health when you're alone in a sea full of couples. The idea of being sated by a cookie when you hate your job is aggravating and seemingly patronizing. A moment of absolute tranquility pales in comparison to a mounting debt that is slowly suffocating you.

But that's what it means to be a rebel. Heroes, Brave Fools, Revolutionaries, pretty much any one that You have ever admired in your life have become great by giving the finger to the status quo, to Fate, to God. They saw insurmountable odds, signs pointing them in the opposite direction, friends telling them to give up--but they never waivered. Join their ranks. "I'm not supposed to be happy with just this glass of wine? Fuck You. I will find happiness here." If we force ourselves to actively enjoy something, in the face of everything else trying to weigh us down, then we will enjoy it. You're not enjoying these moments of clarity and happiness for you, you're enjoying them as part of a movement. Actively enjoy that which gives you pleasure. If it's only one drag of a cigarette, one session of shameful masturbation, one phone call with an old friend, one episode of some shitty sitcom that you (privately) enjoy...lap it up. Hoard it. Sure, it's almost delusional to take that much pride in a sandwich when compared to thousands of dollars in debt or a job that crushes your soul--but a little dash of insanity doesn't really hurt.

It's not kicking your boss in the balls and screaming "I QUIT!" Or throwing a football into the President's groin. Or forcing Tom Cruise to just admit that Scientology is a sham. But it's a small step in taking back our lives. They've been co-opted by the bullshit pragmatism of this fucked up world for too long. And I'm sick of the cynicism that is prevalent in my waking hours and intruding into my dreams. My dreams should be leaking out into the world, they should be remaking my reality into what I wish it were, instead of turning my unconscious playground into a maze of cubicles.

That's why I'm going to make sure to wake up tomorrow morning, after a good's night sleep and say, "Guess what, World? I beat you again. I enjoyed that night of rest. Maybe I'll never sleep again, but those 5 hours were pretty friggin sweet. So tomorrow, feel free to bombard me with all sorts of accident prone preschoolers...cuz I won today, and there's not a God Damn Thing You Can Do About It."