Beautiful Sleep

Friday, August 26, 2005

It’s a beautiful day in my neighborhood. I didn’t get to bed until I late and I woke rather early. I’m beginning to think (as opposed to ‘I think’) that sleeping less makes me happier. I’m not happier in the morning—mornings suck, and never do they suck worse than when I feel like I didn’t get enough sleep. But come the late morning and afternoons, I have more energy and a happier outlook on life when I sleep less. I work (relatively) harder on these days, taking more pleasure in my tasks and getting things done at an exceptional rate. And, since we seem to be keeping a record here, I went to sleep late last night because of too much video games. Maybe, and it certainly doesn’t pain me to say this, maybe, video games are actually good for me?

I have a new war cry: “try as he might.” The he is me, and no matter how hard I try (or how little I try, as today is turning out), something else happens.

It’s almost bedtime and I’m fighting its affects. I’m in the process of testing out my too much sleep theory (or TMST). The one variable I forgot to control for, however, was physical exercise. Since I haven’t done any of it in over a week, it does start to make sense that I would need less sleep. Once I start riding again (I will ride again, hopefully next week—unless the weather changes, in which case, I don’t know what I’m going to do, maybe wait to ride until next year and continue shriveling up into the anti-David, small arms and sunken chest), my belief is that I will need more sleep or wake up zombie-like, wandering the halls with my brain confused, pathologically yawning, and searching for a moment of sleep. Did I tell you I bought an Ikea lounge chair for my office at work? I plan to use it on those days—just for fifty or so winks. I’ll let you know how my experiments go.

After staring disgustingly at my empty pages, I decided to revisit some of my older works. The one that stood out (after a few failed attempts at the sci-fi story—I will be able to write it one day, it’s just that this is not that day) was The Flying Toe Stomp. I didn’t like the history lesson on my childhood, though. I liked the narrator and Charlie. I started a second draft many months ago where I cut out Roger and decided on a rather sorry end for Charlie. But by removing Roger, I killed the plot. Charlie is interesting, but without a conflict (or an adversary, I should say), the plot won’t move forward. So, I resurrected Roger.

I’m leaving for Chicago tomorrow for a Bar Mitzvah for my cousin and a wedding anniversary for his grandparents. I’m meeting my mother and younger sisters; I haven’t seen her two monsters in a while and I’m looking forward to taking many photographs of them. Doolies is in Toronto with her family, after visiting Seattle this past weekend through Tuesday. (So nice having Doolies around. I can’t wait until the middle of September when she’s here for—hold on to your hats and mittens—an entire month!) My head keeps falling to my chest and my eyelids are weakening. It’s time to call this done and try to get some sleep. I know, this is not what I had hoped to write. Video games took up most of my free hours tonight, but I’m not sorry about that. Since I started to level up another character (without Doolies—a big mistake), it has come to dominate my free time.

I’ll give thoughts to TFTS and see where I can take it this weekend. It’s nice to be writing a bit again, even if it’s only coming out in spurts without much that is terribly interesting (to me).