Showing posts with label can't sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label can't sleep. Show all posts

Thursday, May 20, 2021

New Ways to Not Sleep.


The sleep doctors amongst you will probably yell at me, but often I listen to podcasts while I fall asleep. I find that it helps because I often have trouble sleeping. Surprisingly there are not a lot of podcasts that are good for this (Yes, I have tried Sleep with Me). I’ve discovered that what really does it for me tend to be mildly interesting history podcasts.


Some are a little too interesting, like Our Fake History and The Constant. Some are weirdly shouty, like In Our Time. Some are too much white-libertarian-guy for me, like Hardcore History. Some are too much fun, like Ancient History Fangirl or Let’s Talk About Myths, Baby!. What I need is something interesting enough that I can calm my mind by just focusing down on what I’m listening to, but not so stimulating that it actively keeps me awake. 


You know what is weirdly great at this? A podcast called Fall of Civilizations, which is all about how various civilizations have collapsed throughout time. The episodes are long, they’re well-produced, the guy has a nice voice, and he never shouts. You might ask, “Doesn’t it weird you out listening to all that tragedy as you drift off to dreamland?” Good question; no, no it does not.


Another good one is called Historical Blindness and I was listening to it last night and I was still awake enough to be impressed when the dude dropped the ten dollar phrase “pre-Columbian transoceanic contact theory.” 


Let me tell you, while it is often a pain in the ass living inside my particular brain, one thing I do enjoy about it is that even though I didn’t know that phrase, I knew all of the constituent terms of that phrase, so this brain processed it for me automatically and I was just all like, “Oh this is going to be awesome!”


It was episode #67 entitled, “Written in Stone: The Archaeological Frauds of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact Theories”, but I did not know that at first, I just clicked play.


Basically it was about how in America, white colonizers throughout history have gone out of their way to fake evidence that white people were in North America before Columbus landed in the Bahamas in 1492 (Remember, Columbus never set foot on the North American continent.)


Now, yes, Northern Europeans had been to North America prior to Columbus (the so-called Vikings even had settlements up in Canada for awhile, but they were only the Middle Age equivalent of a Flying J [also, also the Middle Ages aren’t real, but that is a discussion for another time]).  However when white Christians were stealing land from Native Americans during our early settlement period, they did not KNOW that Vikings had had camps up north.


The purpose of these various hoaxes was usually to “prove” that one or more of the so-called lost tribes of Israel had gotten to North America a long time ago and — I guess — by the law of transitive property, that meant that North America was (somehow) Christian? And so they could take all the land and kill all the people who lived on it. QAnon was not always called “QAnon” folks. This is all very similar to the “ancient aliens” theory, which — by the way — is also racist.


Anyway, the fun thing was that when the dude dropped, ““pre-Columbian transoceanic contact theory” I immediately recognized that this was going to be some Joseph Smith and the Golden Plates level of crazy. There are few more fun stories from history than those of people who are simply, bold faced lying (Seriously, check out The Constant, that podcast is all about grifters). The problem is that it was too interesting of an episode, so I couldn’t fall asleep.


I blame this not on the podcaster, but rather on the 400 years ago grifters who were simultaneously so stupid and audacious that even now it is fascinating to ponder their delirium.


Someone could write a whole book (and probably has) about the simple topic of how much of our modern lives is built on a foundation of outright imaginary bullshit. I’m not going to be able to do that now though, because I’m exhausted this morning, because i couldn’t get to sleep, because of those damn grifters.


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Saturday, September 25, 2010

Reading Out Loud, Or Not.

Lately I have been missing more and more crawling into bed with my Ex at the end of a long day and reading to her. She used to let me read out loud from whatever book I was reading at the moment and she would fall asleep with her head on my shoulder and her arm draped absently but tightly across my chest. I don’t know that I have ever felt that close to someone before and I miss it quite a lot on nights like this when I am sitting up at one in the morning with no sleep in sight and a stack of books sitting next to my bed.


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Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Fighting that Dying Light, Again.

Oh dear blog, I am so sorry that I have been so absent as of late. I have been busy in ways that I will probably be telling you about soon. All I want to tell you now is that sleep beckons and that I am going to try to sleep in my bed tonight. I haven’t done that in awhile. Most nights when I’m home I can’t bring myself to crawl into bed. I stay up as late as I can stand watching the History channel until I can feel my eyes drying out and then – blessedly – I fall asleep at some point.

The thing is that I haven’t been doing very well lately. Life is punctuated with these little flashes of wonderful, but in between there are wide gray zones. If you like hyperbole, image that savagely tilled no mans land between French and German lines with WWI cannon fire bursting bright like the sun on either side. That, minus the savagery (usually) is kinda what my gray stretches are like lately.

I think that I don’t feel like I’m making much forward momentum through life right now. Most days – at about this time of night anyway – start to feel like failures. Small, 24-hour-long failures and I think that there is some soft and deranged part of my brain that thinks that crawling alone into bed is a kind of acceptance of the failing. So the only small protest that I can manage is refusing to go to bed. So I am up, alone with the demons of my ego (did I tell you that I was hanging out with my EX recently and in her car I found some old internet print-outs about how to tell if you are dating a narcissist? That felt good).

The point in all this is that I am going to try to crawl into my bed soon. Or rather, onto my bed. I almost never sleep under the covers. I have a couple of blankets and I use those. I sleep on the bed. Seldom do I sleep in it. Does that make me some weird kind of ascetic? Probably not. They say that John The Baptist lived on wasps. That guy was a fucking ascetic.

Don’t let me convince you that life is awful; it really isn’t, it just somehow always feels that way this time of night.

Part of my mind right now tells me that I sound be raging against the dying of the light and that I should have refusal running through me just like I do thick hot blood and cancer potential, but the other part of me is just tired.

I think that tonight the tired is going to win.

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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Can't Sleep.

It’s the middle of the night right now and sometimes the middle of the night is just right for writing. It feels right but I don’t have much to write about right now.

The truth is that I just can’t sleep right now. Life is full of emotion right now. Work stress and school stress and life stress. I don’t mean to complain, I really don’t. I don’t want to be unseemly. I know that many people have it much harder than I do so I try not to complain. Too much.

Anyway, all I want to do right now is write this little note. My little scrawl across the nighttime, my own little bit of internet graffiti. I like to think that when you read this it will be nighttime for you too. I’m in a soft sort of midnight mood right now and I hope that you’ll be in one when you read this.

In other words, I’m being introspective (yes, I acknowledge that there is an awful irony in being introspective by posting on one’s blog) and I just might stay that way for a little while. Please stay tuned then for atrocious poetry about the moon or something.

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Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I Can't Sleep. Because I'm a Failure.

I can’t sleep.
So here we are. Just you and me dear blog, the two of us in the middle of the night while the rest of the world is in bed, all decent and law-abiding and well-rested.

A little bit ago I was in bed and Violet was drifting off to sleep and I whispered to her that I couldn’t sleep and she said that she would tell me a story (sometimes I tell her stories when she is trying to go to sleep) and her story was this:

“Once there was a boy named Jamie and his brain was broken and so he couldn’t sleep.”

And then Violet fell asleep and I was left staring at the shadow of the ceiling fan, just ma and my broken brain.

The truth is that I have been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist of a psychiatrist to figure out that it started about the time I started getting rejected from grad schools. The truth of the matter dear blog is that I didn’t get in anywhere and the fact has had a pretty profound effect on me. I knew the odds going in but a part of me really did think that I would get in somewhere. Someplace. But alas, it was not too be. And I have had to spend a lot of time thinking about it lately. And that’s okay. We all need these kind of set backs from time to time but shit, I occasionally feel like my entire life is a long chain of these sort of setbacks. I mean really, how much character am I supposed to build here?

But I am not going to bitch and moan, at least not too much. I have very little interest in feeling sorry for myself. Well, except for the day I got rejected from Brown. Brown was my Ivy League wet dream and I really really really wanted to get in there. That particular day I was perfectly fine with feeling sorry for myself. But that mostly only lasted the day.

It is pretty late right now and I have always found that this is the time of the day when people either lie the most of are the most honest and so right now I will be honest. The real kicker in all this isn’t the wholesale rejection (of me) by the American creative writing establishment, it is the fact that I was soooooo looking forward to grad school because it was going to be a two year break. And I really needed the break. It was going to be two years to just write. I have never had that in my life. Almost every word that I have ever written has been written in the margins of my life. It usually meant staying up late of getting up early or writing on my lunch breaks. I was looking forward to taking all of this energy that I use to work full-time and go to school full-time and just throwing it at the writing. I wanted, for once, to be prolific. And prolific I would have been.

I coulda been a contender!

Anywho, that’s enough of that.

The reality is that I have another nine weeks of school to get through and then my life will slow to just work and life and I think that I will apply to other schools in the Fall when applications open up again. I figure that I owe it to myself to give it one more shot at this whole being educated thing. In the in between time I have a play to finish and a screenplay to finish and a novel to finish and another one to finally edit. And I have enough short work to self-publish a collection print-on-demand style. Also I’m going to have to come up with two really good pieces of writing for applications in the Fall.

I thought that my last ones were good, but apparently they weren’t good enough.

Though now that I am getting some perspective on the whole MFA Creative Writing thing I think that there is a case to be made that I don’t really write like other people and so maybe I don’t fall into the boxes that these kind of programs want a writer to fall into. Or is that just self-aggrandizing? Maybe it is but – you know – leave me the hell alone about it. I’m a failure! You really want to kick me while I’m down.

It is going to be a little while before I get totally clear of the mental wreckage and fall-out that is rejection on this massive a scale, but when I get really sad about it, I think back to a piece that I read in The Onion when I first moved to LA. It was just a little help wanted box listing the demeaning things that they made their interns do and at the bottom of the box it said, “Creative Writing MFAs need not even apply. Seriously.”

Now I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of those people who thinks that things happen for a reason. I don’t believe that there is a grand design and I don’t actually believe in destiny and if there is a god he/she had better damn well be paying attention to things far more important than me. I say all this just to make the point; don’t worry too much about me. I land on my feet faster and better than most people and I have way more experience at it than most. Also, I’m basically a specially formulated kind of awesome. So I will be fine.

And I will keep you posted.

Sorry if this entry is a little ramble-y, but I’m pretty tired.
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