Bedtime Thoughts 25 – I Can’t Sleep At Night

First of all before I even start writing and you even start reading I should inform you that this exact moment is a great example of how my life works. As you’ll come to find out shortly while reading this, unless you’re scanning it looking for talk of the band Brand New’s second album or gay masturbation material – I just found out by far the two biggest searches people have used that led to my blog are Deja Entendu and Huge Penis (how fitting, everything you find here has already been heard, hence Deja Entendu which is French for already heard, and this blog contains lots of irony, such as people looking for huge penises and being led to a blog written by someone with a small penis) – I have trouble sleeping at night. It’s hard for me to do, especially as of the past few weeks, but also for all my life. The reason this moment is a good example of how my life works is because I’m actually pretty tired and could probably fall asleep relatively soon, rather than being up for hours and hours until sunlight and then falling asleep, once God has gotten me back on my shitty schedule that I hate so much, but instead of avoiding that by getting to sleep right now I of course realized something, which you’ll come to know shortly after this long paragraph that has assuredly scared away any potential new readers because people are attracted to short bite size paragraphs made of two or three sentences, not eight or nine run on sentences that contain enough comma splices to dry an English teacher’s red pen, and once I did realize that something I had to write about it. I of course didn’t have to. I could have waited until tomorrow. But I find in my life I always wait for everything. Fuck it, I’m done waiting, and putting shit off. Of course I’m not really. It’s hard to break habits, especially the bad ones that feel so good in the moment to break, and then like shit later. So I made myself write. Granted as of yet I’ve only alluded to what I wanted to write about. But at least I’m writing, and that’s the important part, right? (Not really.) Oh, well damn.

I spent the night at David’s house last night, like I’ve been doing for the past three or four Saturdays. He’s not my gay lover. For one I don’t date Asians, and for two I’m not gay. And for three I’m kidding about not dating Asians, I’ve actually been pretty attracted to Asian women as of late. I hang out with him and usually some other friends on Saturdays and by midnight I’m usually too lazy or tired or both to head home so I just stay there until morning, plus whenever I sleep somewhere that isn’t my own bed I can never sleep that long, so I wake up early, so it helps me get back on schedule.

So I was trying to sleep on David’s floor at six in the morning – we had been up playing video games for the previous 14 hours, seriously, okay, a couple breaks, and I hate playing video games alone because it feels like a waste of time, but with friends its fun and relaxing – and I was having trouble falling asleep and of course thinking about all the wrong things, like why Annabelle barely calls or texts me anymore but whenever I ask if things are going okay between us, because, and I think rightfully so, I get nervous because twice in the past things have happened that made her stop talking to me, and not things that I do, just things in her life that she has to deal with, although with one girl in the past one of the reasons she had stopped talking to me so much was because I was always worrying, too which I explained, “Ah ha! I knew I was worrying for a good reason.” I didn’t really say that, it’s a joke.

Also I think about dying a lot. Ever since I was a little kid, about five or six, lying in the dark in my 101 Dalmatians bed, with matching sheets and blankets and pillow cases, and puppy paw print stickers all across the room, I would think about the concept of eternity and how it seemed so weird, but also about how not existing at all seemed weird, and scary.

I guess at that age I believed in God because that’s what my mother told me was right. That’s where I got the idea of eternity. I die but then I’ll live forever in Heaven, assuming I’m a good little boy and say my prayers, and eat my veggies and stay in my room whenever mom brings her “we’re just hugging” buddies over. Well we hug too mom, so why can’t we hug with no clothes on? Okay, first of all that’s all a joke. My mom wasn’t a whore…at least not after I was born…and she didn’t tell me to eat my veggies, she did, and still does, tell me to say my prayers though, and although I didn’t want to fuck my mother, at least I think not, I did get jealous of this guy she liked once around the time I was seven or something, and then my mom explained to me that me and her couldn’t be together, and at that age I knew exactly what sex was and I knew even though I liked my mom and wanted her not to give her attention to other guys I didn’t want to fuck her. The only thing I wanted to fuck at that age was the two and a half foot doll we had for some reason even though her only children at that point were boys (wow, this is turning out not to be about sleeping at all) it’s bedtime thoughts, so I let my mind wander.

Thinking about living forever was weird, and soon led me to the idea of not existing anymore. That was weirder. Some people say they wouldn’t want to live forever – I guess they probably mean just here on Earth and not in Heaven for some reason – because things would get boring, but I feel boredom is a much better alternative than nothing. I’m deathly afraid of not existing. As a little kid when I would think about it in bed at night I would cry because I didn’t want to be nothing. Now of course I cry because I’m afraid I’m going to be nothing but not in a non existing way.

My mind of course fucks with me all the time. That’s what people who worry do. They think of all the bad things. Oh, we think of the good things too, we think of every thing, all the possible scenarios, and then we think of all the reasons the bad ones are more likely to happen then the good ones. It’s truly a horrible problem. It makes a person deny logic. So it also makes a person very stupid. And while a lot of my worrying has turned out to be true, most of it, pretty much all of it, doesn’t happen at all, and isn’t even close to happening – what makes the dying and being nothing thoughts so scary, but also surprisingly less trouble to deal with, is that it’s not a “what if” it’s a “oh crap this is going to happen one day,” I mean there could possibly be some kind of afterlife, I strongly doubt it, but either way the chance of me existing forever is too small to even calculate, so I know it’s going to happen and that sucks, but it’s going to happen and there’s nothing I can do about it, so it’s best just not try to think about it, or better advice, because telling a person not to think about it is useless because that person is going to think about it, I’ll think about it, but after worrying for a minute I’ll remind myself that there is nothing I can do about it, and letting it get me sad doesn’t help me, it doesn’t keep it from happening, it wastes a lot of my time, but that’s about it, so think about it but don’t let it ruin me.

As I said my mind likes to fuck with me, I’ve known this forever, but just tonight I realized that one of the reasons I struggle so much with falling asleep is that I put too much pressure on myself to fall asleep. I want to get to sleep fast because I don’t want to think about all those bad thoughts. The past couple years I’ve been avoiding lying in bed at night, even when I’m very tired, because I don’t want to lay there, even for just ten minutes, thinking sad thoughts.

Elizabeth Laime with Aubrey Plaza (stolen from TotallyLaimePodcast.com)

I realized I was putting pressure on myself because instead of turning off my computer tonight when I went to lie in bed I left it on, listening to a podcast, an episode of the Totally Laime podcast, it’s quite enjoyable, and I left most of the programs on my computer going, firefox, google chrome, AIM, itunes, and for awhile, up to the point I decided to write, I had even left my light on, but I hate wasting energy, I hate it a lot, even though I do it a lot, I mean if I leave a room the lights go off, recently I leave my room in the afternoon to go to the bathroom or kitchen and the light will be on and I’ll flip it off and there will be almost no difference in lighting because it’s broad fucking daylight so there’s really no need to turn the light on and especially leave it on when you’re done with the fucking room, but tonight when I went to turn off my computer and light because I didn’t want to waste energy I said, “No, if I do that it means I’m going to bed and that’s it. I’m not doing anything but going to bed and that’s what I have to focus on. If I leave the stuff on I can still lie in bed, but I have the option of getting up and reading (no) or searching for undiscovered pornography (yes), but more importantly, I’m just lying here, I’m not going to sleep, I’m just relaxing in bed listening to a podcast, so all those things I associate with sleeping I don’t have to do.”

That’s kind of crazy, but that’s how it works with me. I thought to myself the other day that it’s weird how much I hate going to bed now, when I used to love sleeping. I never loved sleeping. I always had horrible thoughts when trying to sleep. What I remember loving are all those times I would lie in bed watching TV, being tired but never needing to sleep. When I would stay home from school (pretending to be) sick I would lie in bed watching TV, or playing video games, or listening to the radio, and at some point around three in the afternoon, when everyone was getting home from school, I would doze off, not needing to be up for school in six hours, but instead just getting rest.

I guess I’m doomed. I can’t just have no obligations my whole life. I want to wake up at a certain time so I have to be in bed by reasonable hours, which means I can’t wait until I’m about to pass out so I’ll have the least amount of time thinking bad thoughts as possible. Once things in my life are better I think I’ll be able to sleep easier. I think a lot of people have trouble sleeping. I think I’m going to have a lot of trouble sleeping tonight because I stupidly choose to write this instead of falling asleep and now I’m not really tired, and I have to pee a lot, and I’m not really proud of this writing, but I enjoyed doing it, and I’m happy about that, but not really happy because I’d like to write well one day, and that’s not even that true because I don’t know what writing well is, because I see stuff that is considered good writing, and a lot of the time it doesn’t appeal to me, I just want to write, and that’s what I’m doing, so I’ll be happy with that, and I’ll sleep well tonight, because someone told me I’m a positive person, which is the first I’ve ever heard of that because I always sound really negative when talking about myself, but its not a lack of confidence thing as I was telling myself earlier, it’s that I believe in myself so much that really anything but perfection isn’t good enough for me. Perfection doesn’t exist. That scares me. That will probably keep me up (Oh my God, go away) and it ends with rambling followed by a period.

#19 Sleep Be Not Consistent.

#19 Slowly, Through A Vector by Say Anything

I haven’t been sleeping well lately. In the last couple of days leading up to this point I was up for 24 hours, slept for 15 hours, up for 20 hours, slept for 12 hours, up for 13 hours, slept for 3 hours, up for 12 hours, slept for five and a half hours, and now I’m here typing this at three forty eight in the morning wishing I was still asleep so I could wake up in a couple of hours, make some eggs with toast or possibly English muffins with organic peanut butter that tastes funny and has lumps but there’s no other peanut in the house that hasn’t been around as long as all the Harry Potter movies, with some tea and then not masturbate, or maybe masturbate, I never really know which these days, and then work out a little, followed by being depressed all day and accomplishing nothing.

I’ve been extra depressed lately. I’ve been talking to Eva a lot more, so that keeps me happy when it’s occurring, but I don’t know how long that will last. We even Skype from time to time, which is a real treat for me because she’s fucking beautiful, and I’m not just saying that because she now knows that I write here – I don’t think she’ll read this anyway. She’s a pretty cool girl. A weird personality, but that’s kind of the only personality I enjoy to a large extent. Very sweet as well. When I talk to her I don’t think about Annie. But when we’re done talking I think about Annie. And I have my phone close to me in case she calls or texts, which doesn’t happen anymore. She used to always call me at one, or two, or three in the morning, often times I would be asleep, so I got in the habit of sleeping with my phone in my hand, or on my body so it’d wake me up and I could talk to her. Still the first thing I do when I wake up is check my phone. I’m almost always disappointed.

This song is fucking amazing. It’s always been fucking amazing to me because it has three parts. The first part of the song is all about the instruments. I mean the lyrics are good and help build the entire song, but the instruments really take the lead. Then when he starts with,

            “When I get to your apartment I climb the rail upside the building. A band of them were in your apartment. They tied you up, unwound, unwilling. I watched them cut, watched them touch. Watched them do what they came to do. And in I come to lick it up. Clean up what is left of you,”

            Thus began the second part of the song and it’s all about the lyrics. Clearly not all about the lyrics, but they take center stage. What weird lyrics they are. Sexual in nature. I think sexual in nature. I suppose weird in nature, sexual in my head. I have no idea what this songs about.

            “Ha, ha, ha, show me what you got.”

            This ends the song. He just repeats that. The backup singers repeat it. I don’t understand it. I like it. Most thinks I like I don’t understand. I don’t think that’s entirely true, but I think it makes sense.

If I Were A Cat I’d Sleep Easier And Masturbate Slightly Less

There’s a huge advantage in sleeping that cats hold over humans that I don’t think gets talked about enough when taking into consideration how much fucking better it’d be to be a cat rather than a human. Everyone of course rightly cites that cats don’t have to do stuff like work, pay bills, or sleep with that girl Lisa’s disgustingly unattractive, and frankly downright uninteresting in every aspect, friend just so your friend can have some quality alone time with Lisa (no, that’s not taken from a real life experience) and because cats don’t have to do those time consuming and un-joyous tasks they can spend their entire day doing what every human covets most, sleeping. But I don’t think people think about how amazingly talented cats are at sleeping. You may think sleeping is easy, but according to bullshitstats.com three out of four people on Earth, not counting North Korea, Vietnam and Australia, suck at sleeping.

Really, think about it, like right now, like stop reading this, use that mushy thing incased in your skull (because God knows if you’re reading this you certainly aren’t using it) and think about how difficult it is to sleep for humans. From the time you human beings are born to the age of three you spend on average 13.5 hours of your day sleeping, which is a deceiving number because to the untrained eye that seems like a lot of sleep, but think about what’s going on during the other 12.5 hours of the day (and when did we start using 26 hour days?). When babies are awake they do two things. They spend 10% of that time crying because they’re hungry, and they spend 90% of that time crying because they wish they were sleeping. It’s because they’re weak and can’t force themselves to sleep, unlike cats, who at a moment’s notice can be walking down the hallway and then all of the sudden think, ‘fuck this shit, I’m tired’ and then collapse to the floor and be asleep in seconds.

That’s a superpower in and of itself. We live in an age with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds (we get it) and hundreds of sleeping pills and the like. Hours and hours and hours (don’t say hours one more time or I guarantee you’ll lose every reader) are wasted as human’s struggle to force themselves to sleep in an attempt to get a reasonable amount of rest in before their next daily grind, and then what’s worse is that throughout the day they are mock with fatigue and tiredness, which some claim are synonyms of each other so there was no use for me to use them both, but I claim due to my deprived education I don’t know what synonyms are, or why any word needs to contain two y’s. And after a full day of fatigue and or tiredness the human slave to the corporate machine comes home and is faced with the burden yet again of not being able to sleep, so he is forced to drink beer after beer then beat on his wife a little then beat off to a basic cable showing of Show Girls just to get himself to sleep. This is indeed a sad world we live in, but one that could be avoided, not if we had all the free time in the world to sleep like cats, but rather if we had the ability to sleep easily.

When thinking about this I noticed that cats can sleep so easily because they’re flexible and readily comfortable in any of the millions of positions they can get in, which if you’re like me brings one thing to mind. Move over Nadia Comaneci there’s a new favorite in my acrobatics sex fantasy and her name is Eartha Kitt (you do realize she’s not really Catwomen, and she’s dead?). I realized neither. The point is what is Batman doing flirting around with all these harlots when he could be settling down with Catwomen and having cirque du Soleil sex every night with Catwoman.

abcdefghijlmnopqrstuvwxyz, I missed a letter.

Lately I’ve been on a not so good schedule that isn’t agreeing with my school schedule.  Class starts at ten, and I haven’t been sleeping until around five or six, so that only gives me about three and a half hours of sleep which is about nine hours less than I usually spend in bed dreaming of Victoria Secret models expect with bigger breasts. Despite how hard I try (which hasn’t been very hard) I can’t get on a schedule that corresponds with my school schedule. At the beginning of the term, as I do every term, I told myself I wouldn’t miss any classes. It’s one week into the term and I’ve already failed. I’ve missed a history class, which isn’t too bad because I know how the class works so I could miss all but six days and still pass the class with an A, and I’ve missed one of my creative writing classes, which isn’t too bad because last term I missed it seven times and still got an A, but I’d like not to miss the class that many times this term because there seems to be some interesting people in the class, and no by that I do not mean girls with big boobs. There’s actually only one girl with big boobs in the class and she’s not too great looking, she does however say some interesting things in the class, not interesting as in good but interesting as in ‘what the hell is she talking about’. Also there’s some other chick who I think I know from high school although I’m not very sure if I might know her from somewhere else, but either way I’m pretty sure she doesn’t remember me. But anyway what’s important is that I didn’t miss my math class, thanks to a text from a little ol’ girl in Arizona. Had I not received that text I wouldn’t have woken up for another two or three hours. In case you’re wondering the text woke me up because I keep my phone near my head while I sleep because I don’t like missing calls or texts. There have been many a time when a got a call in the middle of the night after only a couple hours of sleep and I answered my phone and proceeded to have an hour long conversation. Sure I may not have been very responsive because I was tired, but anyone who’s been on the phone with me can attest that I’m not very responsive on phone calls in general. But anyway it’s important that I don’t miss math because my brain has completely forgotten everything I’ve ever known about math, so I need to attend the classes so the teacher can teach me, although I’m deeply regretting choosing this teacher, she moves way too fast for my retarded brain (mentally challenge) what, I can’t even say retarded if I’m referring to myself? (It’s even more offensive then because you’re not mentally challenged) the jury’s still out on that.

I know I need to get in bed earlier, but it’s just so damn hard. One second I’m answering questions while watching Jeopardy, then I’m masturbating, and before I know it Last Call with Carson Daly is on. Well that’s close to what my night actually consists of.  When Jeopardy ends I kind of start to realize I should be getting to bed in a few hours so I should finish what needs to be done. And then When Carson Daly is on I wonder where the fuck the time went and why I’m not in bed yet. So I start to get ready for bed and for some reason I haven’t figured out yet it takes me two hours before I’m in bed, but still not even asleep. The last few nights it’s taken me two and a half episodes of Veronica Mars before I could begin to doze off. I know I could probably get to sleep faster if I wasn’t watching Veronica Mars, but sleeping in silence just doesn’t work for me. For one the sound of nothing is eerie, to the point of insanity, because it just leaves me alone with my mind, and my mind never seems to want to think of anything pleasant like butterflies with huge boobs (that’s the third time big boobs have been mentioned) well actually this time I said huge boobs, and there is a difference between big and huge, the difference being that you can’t smoother someone to death with big boobs.

Well that’s all for today folks. Now I have to do mass amounts of math homework. But hey, maybe it will help me come up with an equation to help me figure out how to make maximum use of my time, or at least quicken my masturbation sessions. Forty-five seconds is getting way too long.