insomnia

i don't know if my faithful reader has ever had insomnia. if so, you know that it is among the most frustrating and destabilizing conditions a human being can suffer. there is good reason it is used as a torture technique. it is torture, pure and simple. i think it is likely the quickest route from fully functional to deliriously delusional. i have taken that dreadful journey several times in my life and the details are the stuff of psych wards. there is a kind of desperation that comes with insomnia that can lead otherwise healthy adults to plead with the radiator to stop banging or slam a fist into a keyboard in response to a slow internet connection. insomnia changes a person and it is not an improvement.

last night i was trying to decide which of my dvd's to watch on my way to dreamland. i saw the "insomnia" cover and thought to myself, "i haven't seen that in a long time." in fact, i didn't even remember the plot. but i did have a vague recollection of having made a decision to not watch it. not knowing the basis for such a decision, i put it in anyway. i ran down the list of obvious suspects: does it have bugs? are there scary creepy people? are there ghosts? is there sudden loud screaming? i didn't recall that any of these things were the case, so it seemed safe. in retrospect, the issue should have been completely obvious to me.

i have friends who are former addicts who can't watch movies that depict addicts in their decline. the experience is too personal and too disturbing and the better the role is played, the more upsetting the movie. there is a whole list of drug/alcohol movies that one of my friends just refuses to watch. i should have remembered by its title, that this is how if feel about the movie "insomnia". the movie itself isn't fantastic cinema, but the editing and al pacino's depiction of the experience of insomnia is incredible. i would laud his performance if it wasn't so disturbing! it was incredible to me how the minute details of sleep deprivation are present in the smallest glances, gestures, comments. there is a scene on the telephone during which robin williams's character asks, "have you started seeing things yet?" he goes on to describe the kinds of things one might start "seeing" and i nearly started to cry. it was like i was there. i could feel the anxiety and frustration of being wide awake when i needed to be exactly the opposite of that. i recalled all the nights in grad school when i would long for an hour of rest. i felt the sting of familiarity as i remembered each sleepless night, my clarity slipping a bit during each subsequent day. i worried constantly that i was actually losing my mind. i knew that what was happening to me was what people mean when they say "seeing things", but that is not the kind of thing one goes about telling everyone.

as a result of watching mr pacino's impressive execution of the role of sleepless cop, i found myself still wide awake at the closing credits and battling the wide-eyed thought parade that used to be my life for the next 3 hours.

i think i'll make an effort to be more observant. if i come across a film called "stab a fork in your eye" i'll assume it's about that and probably choose not to watch it. this won't protect me from all things troubling, as some movies are more evasive in their nomenclature. "kids". "requiem for a dream". how was i to know the disturbing content of films with these titles? but something like "saw" is a sleep-with-the-lights-on kind of mistake just begging to happen.

macho mocha man

so there is this guy who has started coming to the coffee house regularly... he is always wearing a camo jacket that reminds me of the concept "deep woods". my assessment of this man is that he really enjoys his coffee house beverage--this evidenced by his frequent returns. but he is apprehensive about his appreciation for a beverage whose name is kinda of frilly and not pronounced in "ing-lish". so he suppresses his affection in the same manner every time i see him. he pretends to not remember what it is he ordered last time but it was good.

every time this guy comes in it's the same dialogue.

cam-bo: do you remember what i had last time?
me: (stares blankly, resisting desire to be blatantly irritated)
cam-bo: it has coffee and whip cream (yes whip, not whipped) ... maybe it's chocolatey...
cam-bo's friend: a mocha?
cam-bo: ok, sure. make that. a big one. (flippantly)
**and just as i turn to start making this mocha that i never would have anticipated, he says,
cam-bo: and why don't you throw some butter rum in there, too
me: *nods*

it's every time! same feigned unawareness, same flippancy, same damn drink. dude, just order it! i should inform him that drinking espresso stopped threatening one's masculinity years ago, that it's like a contest now. stop acting like you don't value your 20 oz. butter rum mocha enough to learn the words. just order it and drink it and shut up! in addition to adding the "afterthought" of butter rum, he usually has to do a few more chest pounds by saying something to the effect of "or how about some real rum!" oh that's original! next time i should ask him if he wants malibu... that's a real man's man kind of rum! anyway, i just want him to accept his desire to drink something called a cafe mocha and profess it with pride. it's not shameful. i also want to tell him that it's kind of wussy of him to only get two shots of espresso, but that's a bit much.

my very favorite part of this routine is that i also pretend not to remember what he orders. i just stand there and stare at him waiting until he works it out. he stumbles through the monologue like a high school intro theater student, so intentionally timed that it comes off like a home-grown commercial. and i wait. when people irritate me i try to not let them get any impression that their beverage preference is significant enough for me to remember. i'm kind of a bitch like that. but come to think of it... i only do that to cam-bo. he bugs me.

...in a little rowboat to find ya'...

i had a three hour break between jobs yesterday so i took advantage of some much-needed naptime. i cuddled into my bed with my little doggy and dozed for a couple of hours. this particular mid-afternoon napportunity routinely provides for some of the most bizarre dream content and yesterday was no exception. i tend to dream so vividly that i feel as though i am awake throughout and hardly wake up rested, but the dreams are generally so much fun that i don't really care. in yesterday's dream, i spent the vast majority of my time with a bunch of people whom i knew well in the dream but are not identifiable to me in my awake life. one of our primary tasks as a dreamgroup was to search for a treasure that was allegedly hidden under some floorboards in a building that appeared to be merrifield hall (for those few of you who are familiar with this building where i spent the vast majority of my college days). but there were a few bars (pubs, not prisons) in some of the rooms and at the end of the hall was a room that was apparently someone's bedroom with a small window and some old dude who appeared to be looking for a better bar kept peeking in. after several attempts to hammer through the floor to find the treasure, one guy became frustrated and began to jump up and down, stomping on the hopeful site. when he did this, a board came loose and flipped up in the air, revealing a wooden box full of cash (it's very cheesy 80's youth cinema, i know. like something that would have happened to the creepy ugly kids in goonies) which we all shared. there were other things in the box but i don't know what they were, i was counting. my count revealed that my new-found wealth was more than enough to pay off my student loans and even enough to "start over". imagine my delight! i was tearful with relief. for a few moments i was so free to do whatever the hell i wanted to do. but of course, i had to wake up eventually, despite my total lack of interest in doing so. and when i woke up i had those lingering moments of contentment and joy. it took me a few moments to trace that feeling back to the financial relief of my dreamworld. after that i wasn't so joyful anymore.

so my question to my brain today... in my dreams i can concoct the most bizarre, surreal, paradoxical conditions and situations. there are bars in college classrooms, i can speak spanish fluently, people are flying through the air on motorcycles, hidden treasures are real... in some of my dreams i have been unafraid of things that paralyze me in real life (bugs, guns, large bodies of water)... so why? why, why, why? must i always carry the emotional burden of debt into my dreams. no matter how much of reality i leave behind when i close my eyes... this one thing remains. will there be no relief ever?? certainly there won't be in my awake life, but just once i would like to leave that behind when i travel through wormholes in a volkswagon bug to the grand tetons at jackson hole, wyoming to meet a wizard who is knitting me a new sweater and introduces me to the princess who speaks farsi and offers me 12 million dollars. just once i would like to be able to say, in farsi, no thanks, i'm good.

a post about whom, shelly?

i never thought i'd see the day, but i want to talk about britney spears. not for long because i know absolutely nothing about the girl, but i just can't keep my silence anymore. i think she looks good with her head shaved. outside of the fact that she apparently did it during a time of extreme distress, having gone totally whacked, chemically motivated or otherwise, i think it was a good move. i never noticed before because of the hair pile on top of her head and the globs of glitter and such, but she is just cute as a button and i like this look.

that said, i have to add that i feel very very sad for her. she is clearly a very sick girl (or not so clearly, i guess.... i dunno.) according to the paparazzi, anyway, she is a very sick girl. i care not for the details of what she is doing or where she is living, and i won't read far enough into a story about her to find out. but one can't move about in this country without having caught a glimpse of a photo of bald britney. and i just think she looks good.

Rent-A-Love

i think i am going to start a new business. a business that is directed at a very specific clientele with a very specific set of needs.

overall, as i have suggested before, i find living alone to be a very relaxing, tranquil, pleasing way to go about one's life. i enjoy the freedoms of waking and sleeping, working and playing, cleaning and slothing at my own pace and on my own schedule. there is certainly plenty to be said for the company and comfort of another's presence... if you go in for that kind of thing... but this way serves me well. with one major exception. sick time. living alone and being single when you are sick totally sucks.
so i think there should be a "rent-a-love" industry. not a rent-a-lov"er" industry, as that nomenclature too strongly suggests some kind of sexual activity that is far off the radar for most during sick time. but rent-a-love is simply about sending out professional care-takers to do all of the things for a sick person that someone who loves them would do if said person existed. there are, of course, limitations and rules to something like this.
for example: the rented care-giver must be a stranger. if we were meant to rely on our friends for this kind of thing there would be no need for the service and performing it for our friends wouldn't be quite so aggravating.
the duties of the rented assistant certainly would vary depending on the severity of the case, which brings me to another necessary boundary: this service is for temporary, minor illness and injury only. in fact, a main criterion of the appropriate client could be that seeking the service is in itself, an over-reaction and a bit dramatic. this is for people who have a cold that demands time at home on the couch and re-runs of roseanne. people who have a stomach virus and need someone to continually provide replacement fluids. people who can't stand long enough to heat soup because their migraine is so bad it makes them dizzy, but they are in desperate need of soup because nutritional deprivation has become a prime source of the migraine.
for someone who is actually ill with something real, call in the real experts. hospice will do their thing for the genuine cases and rent-a-love will kick in for the whiney little snifflers who just need some attention. rented helpers will be there to bring the tylenol and the thermometer. they will force the client to swallow little plastic capsful of yucky tasting cough syrup and offer comforting words like "it has codeine". they will heat the water for the "theraflu" and bring huge bottles of water to chase it in order to wash away the horrible flavor of said medication. rentals will be there for the little things like picking up the remote control after it has slidden off the pillow and onto the floor, just out of reach. they will bring and operate the heating pad for the chills and the ice pack for the fever. fluff the pillow, change the channel, bring the tissues and the bucket, cook the soup. rented loves will do it all. and most importantly, rent-a-love staff will be tolerant of those who weep and sob and become giant toddlers when they have an owwie-head. clients will be allowed to cry as if they lost their puppy, drool as though their faces have become paralyzed and whine as though their daddies are leaving them at day care for the first time. for this reason, in fact, it is best that anyone who is interested in working as a rental has some prior experience as a day care provider. how many jobs have that kind of prerequisite?!

i think i'll catch up on my correspondence...

rachel says that line in an episode of friends called "the one when no one's ready". i think it is one of the funniest things she ever says... it totally cracks me up every time. there is something so fantastically passive-aggressive about sitting down to write long-past-due letters during an important event. just to get back at someone... it's just funny.

anyway... that is not what i am actually talking about...
i am actually going to spend some time today doing a little corresponding. i have this life-long tendency to lose touch with people, even the most important people, because i kind of tend to just "move on". hell i would have even lost track of sara if she hadn't coincidentally been in our hometown the day of my mom's retirement party. but lately i have decided that having really important people touch your life and then never seeing or talking to them again kind of sucks. so i have been seeking some assistance in trying to track down some lost acquaintances... carmyn found my friend donna for me... so i will finally email her... and kathy found my college friends sarah and adam so i will email them today.... wonder whom else i should contact.... we'll see. i don't want to lose people anymore. imagine how many reunions i can have in my life! oh this is going to be fun! i finally saw my friend mary last week...after like 8 years... god i suck. off to correspond!

"now find... turkmenistan"

for fatihful readers of second impression, i report with glee and gratitude that i finally own my very own leapfrog explorer talking globe. eventually one must accept that simply wishing for something and hoping it magically arrives at one's doorstep (or door, in my case, there is no step) is an ineffective way of acquiring one's wants. so i ordered the damn thing from target.

i feel quite sure that some of my real life friends have snickered at the thought and ridiculed my deep longing for this "child's toy" but they are all singing a different tune since the little bugger arrived. three of my dearest friends, emphatically engaged in conversation have stopped dead upon glancing at the lovely learning tool. "never mind, let's play with that!" they say. ding-ding, click-click, 'now find, grenada'. i can keep friends at my house for hours these days. it's a race against time. it's a race against the self. mostly it is a race against dreadfully deficient education in global social sciences.

some of my friends are afraid to touch the thing. afraid to reveal their limitations. they delight in watching the "eureka" game but want nothing to do with participation. rest-assured, dear friends, the fact that you don't know that Georgia can be found on two very different parts of the globe is only your fault if you continue to refuse to learn. until this point, i think we can safely blame our social studies teachers (i.e. football coaches?) for not valuing the location of afghanistan enough to ensure that the general public would know where to find it on a map in order to better understand where the US bombs are falling. by the way.... it's in asia. as is most of what we refer to as the middle east. it's incredibly disturbing how many people don't know that. there's a pretty good chance your president still doesn't know that.

get the globe, folks. it's about self-respect.