dead tired. long days. much work. mental stress. warm pillow. soft blanket. sweet sleep. sweeet sleeeep…. zzzzZZZZZZ, er, hmm… zzzz… uh, isn’t there a paper due in 4 weeks for your class? you’re being lazy and not doing the research right. and you always do the research wrong. remember that one paper you wrote 5 years ago for that one class? you did it all wrong. and now you’re doing this one wrong. and you always do them wrong. forever. for 38 years you do them wrong. wrong. that’s a funny word. it has it’s origins in Middle English, about 900 years ago. i wonder what it was like to live 900 years ago before all the modern conveniences we have today. would i get the black death and suffer horribly? death. hm. i wonder what it’ll be like to die. i hope i don’t drown. drowning is my worst dream. remember that one time you were swimming and someone tried to pull you under the water – gah! there’s the feeling in my stomach now, the panic and fear. panic. panic room. that was an interesting movie. forrest whitaker was in that – he was one of the bad guys. he won best actor last week. he should have won for his role in Clint Eastwood’s “Bird” several years ago. Bird. i prefer john coltrane. bird was a good horn player, but coltrane – there was more intensity. love supreme is one of the best albums i own. and the song he wrote the poem for and played the notes to the cadence of the poem… what was the name of that song… it’s the last song on love supreme… crap. i can’t remember. doxology? prayer? offering? offering. a nice album by third day, but then commercially exploited with too many sequel albums. i think they jumped the shark with that album. haha. jump the shark. i don’t think i’d want to do that…

insomnia is something i’ve lived with for years. i don’t say “suffered with” for a reason. insomnia is a bitch – don’t get me wrong: the above dialogue could easily run through my head any given night, keeping me from sweet sleep (and this is only the beginning – it’s like a mental manic run that seemingly never ends with connections pulled out of the sky, key words that provoke more words and new streams that run into some strange valleys and once you’ve started the run… settle in! the ride won’t be over until dawn…) but insomnia has a way of making me feel strangely… alive.

haha. alive. even as the next day (week? month?) i feel dead in some senses, there’s a certain… joy? no. happiness? no. perverse alertness? yes! hyperdrive! mania! adrenaline rush! it’s like a natural high, almost.

almost.

insomnia is exhausting, yet i’ve never taken steps to avoid it, really. i don’t take pills. i don’t take my dad’s suggestions. i don’t do what my mom does or take the natural supplements she gave me to sleep soundly. i don’t mention it to my doctor. i bitch about it when it gets really bad (read: weeks and weeks) but that hyperdrive, racing mind, inability to shut down my brain – it’s a very creative time for me (although physical or tactile output is minimal). the creativity is mental. exploration of avenues, creativity in projects, objective thinking (and not so objective thinking) all comes out of these sleepless spells.

so why do i bore you with all this?

washington post BookWorld editor Dennis Drabelle contributes an article in today’s edition that looks at insomnia and creativity with a tantalizing peek at research into the subject.

it certainly doesn’t help my insomnia, but then why would i want help? my insomnia is a part of me and has been a part of me for a long time. i’d be pretty lonely without it.