But Still The Stars Just Sparkle And Shine, Seems Like All The Time Our Boat Was Slowly Sinking, You Didn't Even Seem To Mind
I always seem to stretch the bounds of human endurance when it comes to sleeping. Today is the ninth day in the last twelve days I have gotten less than twelve hours of sleep. It’s not like I’m trying to be a goof and not sleep soundly. I just seem to have developed a nasty habit of sleeping after 4 a.m. and waking up at 10 a.m. That has been my schedule for the last five years and before that I routinely went to sleep at 3 a.m. and woke up at 7 a.m. Sleeping and I just don’t get along. I mean—I’ve made attempts to befriend him but he does not want anything to do with me apparently. His loss. Besides, as I’m accustomed to saying, I have too many friends anyway. Losing one isn’t such a big deal. Let him come to me if he wants me in his life.
I think part of the reason why I cannot seem to get the sleep I want is that too many wonderful things happen when everyone else is asleep, in the wee hours of the night. I have written every story I’ve produced between the hours of 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. I have met every single of one of my girlfriends after the 9 p.m. And too much of life seems to revolve around some cult show that only gets played after midnight—The New Twilight Zone, Northern Exposure, Quantum Leap, Mad About You. All those shows were shows I cultivated a nightly ritual to watch after everyone else apparently in the world had dozed off. I felt like my day, the part of the day that was all me, didn’t start until the last light in the buildings in my neighborhood went out. I’ve always felt like I owned that time, that because no one else could claim to be up they could not lay any claim to the nighttime.
Jina's first birthday gift to me. Think she was trying to tell me something?
This is what led me to perhaps a disheartening and discouraging aspect of my personality. I have always my ability to stay up far longer than most people to escape most people. For instance, when I was trying to avoid a friend who had pissed me off that day, I would just disconnect my phone and take off on a driving spree for four-six hours into the night. Many fights I’ve had with various individuals have been solved only by a timely drive along the coast—maybe down to San Diego or up to Santa Barbara—while I sorted out my feelings. I do not know—I think it’s a crutch for me sometimes. Sometimes I take off by myself late into the evening and don’t come back till early morning. I feel it’s the only time when I can truly be myself without having to put on pretensions of being someone I’m not or acting some way I don’t truly feel like. For example, if I did not want to see a particular person for whatever reason, I would just sleep through the day and do everything I needed to do at night. I think I’m still like that. A lot of the time I do all the work I think important in the twilight hours—reading books, writing, and anything else creative. This is the usual time I blog and surf to the net as well.
Truth be told, I think this is part of the reason why my last girlfriend and I drifted apart. Towards the end of our relationship, towards the end of living together, I used to look forward to the time when my girlfriend would head off to bed and I had the run of the place to myself. Not that I wouldn’t spend time with her, but the longer she stayed up the longer I felt “my” time was being encroached upon. After living by myself for so long it was awkward to not always be able to relax the way I was used to relax. Not being able to watch the programs I wanted watch, not being able to use the computer when I wanted to, and just plain not being able to come and go as I please felt restrictive. I felt like I had to ask permission to be the person I was, the person I had always been. I think this resentment at having to share my favorite time of the day translated to the way I treated her. I think she could tell I didn’t want to be sociable as the evening wore on. As the living together continued and as the nights entirely spent in each other’s company became less and less frequent we developed a heart-wrenching pattern. We’d eat dinner together after getting home, we’d watch an hour or two of television together or talk for the next couple of hours, but after that she basically lost me for the night. I would retreat to my study with the computer and she would continue watching television in the den. Eventually she’d come in and kiss me good night, then go to bed. I’d then get up and proceed to watch a few more hours of my programs on television and then head off to bed myself. It saddens me now to think of all the times we never went to bed together or the times I basically ignored her while I was off in my world on-line or writing something. I think she was 100% correct when she remarked, long after we had broken up, that we weren’t like a couple who lived together. We were more like roommates who didn’t particularly hate each other, but who didn’t particularly like each other. Towards the end I did get the impression we were just going through the motions of being a couple.
Hmmm. Maybe that’s another reason I cannot sleep—because I behave like an idiot in such situations.