The blue balls of sleep deprivation
Jul. 4th, 2007 06:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pseydtonneI slept six and a half hours last night. I woke up around one or two in the morning but it was only a trip to the bathroom. This is the closest I've had to a full night of sleep since I left Byron Bay over a week ago.
I decided yesterday that I would stay awake all day and not give into any inclination for a nap. I need to get over my jet lag and only a bunch of outdoor exercise in the sunlight and saving all sleep for one point in the day will remedy this.
I got up at seven yesterday morning, drove the car to the shop, shuffled files on my laptop while I waited, got the car back by ten and parked it in the driveway. Then I wrote some email, walked to the commuter train station in West Medford and rode the train into town. By the way I wanted to sleep at almost every point of this journey.
I took the green line to Arlington, which dropped me at Berkeley due to station reconstruction. I walked to Marlborough Street and went to the door of Alliance Francaise to get some details about taking an advanced immersion class in the future. They had a handwritten note on the door saying they were closed "aujourd'hui et demain" (today and tomorrow). I had to assume today was the Third since the next day was Independence Day. They had a large amount of plastic bunting for Bastille Day but that's a Saturday so they won't be taking the day off. If only they updated their web site to reflect such closures. I needed the walk, so I wasn't too pissed.
Don't get hungry in the Back Bay. I wound up paying nearly ten bucks for a small sandwich which was yummy but not satisfying and a bread roll which felt like a well-crafted insult. I wound up stopping at Borders to get a lemon bar to get some fat and a small juice drink of some random fruits and perhaps antioxidants. I think the woman forgot to charge me for the drink, which was fine by me. I know she did in fact: I read the receipt.
They sell these books called "33 1/3" where a fan boy of good writing skill describes everything possible about an album. I'm so impressed with the concept that I picked up one about Steely Dan's 1977 album Aja and one about The Minutemen's double-album mersh godess, Double Nickles on the Dime. Someone else is obsessed with D. Boon. I'll let you know how they read. Then I'm going to write a few of my own about Husker Du's Zen Arcarde and maybe the entire works of The Dismemberment Plan.
I got back to Davis Square by three and took the bus home. At four thirty I drove back to Davis and learned that I'd caught the red line home just in time for it to shut down around four. My luck was good but my need for caffeine was stronger, so I went to Diesel and hung out. I had a shot of regular espresso in my decaf coffee, which was enough.
Human interaction has been vital for my recovery. I spent a lot of the afternoon in a social situation that I needed desperately. Around ten in the evening I drove a few people home and then got home to tuck myself in. I was psyched that I had earned my sleep but not psyched enough to be incapable of sleep. I'd also walked over ten thousand steps, which put me back on a pace similar to my numbers in Australia.
Most of you know me as the guy that will sleep given the smallest provocation. This is what makes this process so frustrating. My normal resource whenever I'm frustrated is to take a nap. If I do that now, the terrorists and/or Michael Bay will win.
I'm awake right now and I have a light headache, the kind that hints at dehydration. I will have to stay awake all day once again so that I may attempt an eight-hour night once more. I think I'll need a big breakfast made by someone more interested in cooking than I am. Since it's a major holiday, I may just drive down to IHOP or Sickford's and get a ball of slime. Bickford's has a steak and eggs with Montreal seasoning which may have no class but all the salts I need.
I decided yesterday that I would stay awake all day and not give into any inclination for a nap. I need to get over my jet lag and only a bunch of outdoor exercise in the sunlight and saving all sleep for one point in the day will remedy this.
I got up at seven yesterday morning, drove the car to the shop, shuffled files on my laptop while I waited, got the car back by ten and parked it in the driveway. Then I wrote some email, walked to the commuter train station in West Medford and rode the train into town. By the way I wanted to sleep at almost every point of this journey.
I took the green line to Arlington, which dropped me at Berkeley due to station reconstruction. I walked to Marlborough Street and went to the door of Alliance Francaise to get some details about taking an advanced immersion class in the future. They had a handwritten note on the door saying they were closed "aujourd'hui et demain" (today and tomorrow). I had to assume today was the Third since the next day was Independence Day. They had a large amount of plastic bunting for Bastille Day but that's a Saturday so they won't be taking the day off. If only they updated their web site to reflect such closures. I needed the walk, so I wasn't too pissed.
Don't get hungry in the Back Bay. I wound up paying nearly ten bucks for a small sandwich which was yummy but not satisfying and a bread roll which felt like a well-crafted insult. I wound up stopping at Borders to get a lemon bar to get some fat and a small juice drink of some random fruits and perhaps antioxidants. I think the woman forgot to charge me for the drink, which was fine by me. I know she did in fact: I read the receipt.
They sell these books called "33 1/3" where a fan boy of good writing skill describes everything possible about an album. I'm so impressed with the concept that I picked up one about Steely Dan's 1977 album Aja and one about The Minutemen's double-album mersh godess, Double Nickles on the Dime. Someone else is obsessed with D. Boon. I'll let you know how they read. Then I'm going to write a few of my own about Husker Du's Zen Arcarde and maybe the entire works of The Dismemberment Plan.
I got back to Davis Square by three and took the bus home. At four thirty I drove back to Davis and learned that I'd caught the red line home just in time for it to shut down around four. My luck was good but my need for caffeine was stronger, so I went to Diesel and hung out. I had a shot of regular espresso in my decaf coffee, which was enough.
Human interaction has been vital for my recovery. I spent a lot of the afternoon in a social situation that I needed desperately. Around ten in the evening I drove a few people home and then got home to tuck myself in. I was psyched that I had earned my sleep but not psyched enough to be incapable of sleep. I'd also walked over ten thousand steps, which put me back on a pace similar to my numbers in Australia.
Most of you know me as the guy that will sleep given the smallest provocation. This is what makes this process so frustrating. My normal resource whenever I'm frustrated is to take a nap. If I do that now, the terrorists and/or Michael Bay will win.
I'm awake right now and I have a light headache, the kind that hints at dehydration. I will have to stay awake all day once again so that I may attempt an eight-hour night once more. I think I'll need a big breakfast made by someone more interested in cooking than I am. Since it's a major holiday, I may just drive down to IHOP or Sickford's and get a ball of slime. Bickford's has a steak and eggs with Montreal seasoning which may have no class but all the salts I need.
