Monday, April 25, 2005

Awake is the New Sleep

My body appears to be staging a revolt. It's all anarchy, all the time. In college, I slept when I slept for as long as I could. Staying up until 2 a.m. meant I'd be sleeping in until roughly noon, if at all possible. For years, I'd try to always sleep for 10 hours, at least. A lot of days, there were afternoon naps. Sometimes I'd stay up for a few days. My point is, I did what I want.

My record for staying up stands at 60 hours (and I don't intend to break it) during finals my junior year. The first night was sponsored by coffee. The second night was sponsored by Satan and No-Doz, and they are bad, bad sponsors. I was so loopy by the second night that I didn't realize how many No-Doz I had been taking and by the next morning, I was seeing shadows out of the corner of my eyes and feeling a little jumpy and paranoid. I asked my roommates not to talk to me, as I was so on edge I thought I might lose it. It goes without saying that I would have done better on my finals if a) I had studied steadily all semester instead of cramming and b) rested like a normal person. Who the hell does that in college, anyway?

After those finals, I finally did come home and crash good. I slept and slept and kept on sleeping, and when I woke up, I was as refreshed as anyone would be after a No-Doz binge.

But in the last few weeks, my body has decided it is done with that. It's got its own schedule now. It didn't really consult me on the matter, but whatever. Maybe this is what I get for feeding it so many Wow chips. Obviously, it doesn't know quality.

These days, regardless of what time I go to bed, I wake up at 9. If I stay up until 3, my body is like, "Sucka, you better not do that. 'Cause your ass is getting up at 9." Yesterday morning is when I realized how serious my body is about this getting up at 9 BS. After the Ben Lee show, me, the Mr. and Malia Vale hung out for a couple hours, drinking wine and listening to music. She took off around 2, and I went upstairs to work on photos. I really can't sleep when I know there might be some good photos on my camera, and I must see them and work on them and make them better, and then, then, I can sleep.

There I was, working on a few dozen photos until 4 a.m. When I finished, I set the alarm for 1 p.m. and passed out. Which brings me to this digression: I would be the lamest rock star ever, because I would always set the alarm, even if I'm planning to get up at Rock Star Time and partied like Keith Richards.

Five hours later, I woke up with my brain buzzing. I puttered around, stared into space, tried to will myself into going back to sleep. No go.

Could it be that I've actually managed to accrue a sleep surplus, and it's now being collected?