31 Hours
by Diffused
(Deep Thoughts, 1549 views) - 12/11/03
(recorded 12/11/03 @ 7:56:30 PM)
This fit of insomnia is really getting out of control. I never imagined myself going twenty-four hours without sleep-- being that I am always first to fall asleep at parties or the only person in the world to go to bed at nine o’clock. Whatever has brought about this insufferable condition is truly unknown, but because the condition itself does exist, I have decided to document it in its entirety…

Hour 1:
Wake up after a 12-hour slumber, having eight hours from the previous three days. Took twice the dosage of sleeping pills to acquire this feat, though in reality I believe the pills do not work. Proceed to go into the living room and tune my DVR into an episode of an outrageous animated sitcom. Talking dogs and babies… what will they think of next. After I have indulged my sense of humor for twenty-two and a half minutes, I proceed to shower. Then I make a brief exchange of words with the woman whose loins I was bared before devouring a bowl of cereal: the first meal of the day.

Hour 2:
After exchanging more words with the person whom I call ‘Mother’, I boot up my machine and exchange text with various counterparts to determine the objectives for the day. Little is said of any value, other than we will be meeting in approximately an hour. I then ready myself for errands and the gathering of my friends.

Hour 3:
I climb into my 95’ Saturn of the color champagne and drive in the direction of south for approximately two miles. I then make a right hand turn in the parking lot of a shopping plaza, where I must past many parking spaces in order to get to the bank. Upon entering the bank I step into line. There, an angry woman with a child is complaining about the amount of time that her money takes to travel into her account. Perhaps she needs to pay rent or a cable bill and has not done so in an orderly fashion; either way she does not realize that her procrastination and fault is entirely her own and not that of the gracious teller who is putting up with her complaints. After the teller declares that she will ask for a manger, the line opens up for me to make my deposit. I deposit an entire two weeks worth of work, totaling up to a sum of $445.56. Two weeks spent not enjoying myself and adding to the stress that is already my life. Perhaps these two weeks represent a fraction of the reason why I cannot sleep, either way my next stop deposited my money back into the hands of those that pay me. The gifts I buy at this particular drug store are completely for my mother’s friends back in Iowa, but one of the items I bought this trip was my own-- a picture taken from a hike through Forest Route 151… of beautiful blue lit sky, filtered by yellow leaves of dying birch trees. This picture I believe to be worth framing.

Hour 4:
Drive down two different freeways and fifteen miles to arrive at my friend’s apartment. While trying to make the left into the apartment complex, I am almost smashed by an oncoming semi-truck who wants to make a left in the opposite direction. Avoiding this potentially hazardous situation, I arrive at an intersection and turn into a rather poor looking neighborhood. I notice that most of the vehicles belong to people my age and therefore I make the assumption that these houses must be owned or rented by poor college students. I am almost positive that I am correct in my assertion. I travel my way through the neighborhood and find a place to park near my friend’s dwelling. I then exit my car and approach the front door. I knock twice before I am responding by the shout of one friend. I then open the door and what is to be known as socializing thus commences…

Hour 5:
Having spent the previous hour deciding what to do for the rest of the hours in the day, it came to my attention that one particular friend of mine needed to pay a visit to his college’s book store in order to sell what remained of his books. Because this friend is leaving relatively soon from my life, I decide to accompany him on his journey. Along the way I give him advice on where to park, but being that I do not attend the school, the parking space I choose is in the exact opposite direction of where we need to go. After walking for ten minutes from the car to the bookstore, we experience one of the sad and disappointing common facts about universities and books: only about ten percent of the value of a book is given back after it has been used. After which point the book is then sold again at ninety to ninety five percent of its original value to another unsuspecting and wide-eyed student. After the major loss of my friend’s financial institutions, we then proceed to the basement of the student union. Here, like many basements, lies a collection of outcasts—gamers if you will. It has been a long while since I found myself staring at arcade machines and I feel that there is just reason why it has been a while since I have not stared at arcade machines. After realizing that I cannot fight with what is about to happen, I proceed to watch my friend “dance” on one of the flashing contraptions near by. Its colorful display of light and sound entrance me, only because I know that I am stuck. After what is literally a brief twenty minutes (my friend’s dancing bouts can go on for hours) we leave the student union and continue to journey back to my other friend’s apartment.

Hour 6:
Having decided now was the appropriate time to go to the mall for shopping and occupational needs, myself and the others travel in a single car. Surprisingly little is argued of the rules of “shotgun” and we then drive out in a southwesterly direction. Upon arrival at the mall we walk through a JC Penny’s Outlet store and unto the main concourse. Little of value is done here besides the normal discussions and philosophies shared every time I go out. Though it seems repetitive, the only thing I feel interesting about myself at times are these discussions.

Hour 7:
Being that it is around seven o’clock, the bodily awareness of hunger begins to set in each one of us. We then decide that “Long John Silver’s” is the only answer to satisfy the demands of our bodies. After debating whether or not I really wanted to eat there, it looked like the answer was chosen from me out of necessity. I enjoy eating at this particular place except for the fact that almost every single item of food tastes the same. I do not believe it to be good when a piece of fish and a piece of chicken cannot be distinguished from one another, or when a platter includes a side of fried batter pieces. To any extent, I ate and then left when the time was appropriate. I then parted my way with my companions and headed back in a southeasterly direction to the place that I call home.

Hour 8:
I arrive one again at the drugstore that funds my life. Well not the exact one that truly funds my life, but one of the many locations brought to me by the company that fund my life. I pick up my pictures and find the ones that I do not desire to be particularly undesirable, but apparently they are fine to the one that desires them. The picture that I was so very fond of comes out perfect and is such accepted by me. I then leave the store and journey to my house.

Hour 9:
I begin the trek that would be sleep. I settle down into my bed, after having performed the rituals of nightly grooming. This is where it begins….

Hours 10-18:
I lay awake in bed wishing so desperately for sleep. I try many methods including showering, talking, watching television, eating, masturbating but nothing works. I lay awake pondering many things over and over again in my head. School, friends, life, doggies and kitties…

There are three reoccurring thoughts that pervade all the other thoughts…
Girls, Women, Females

Well perhaps these are all the same thing, but pervade my thoughts they did nonetheless. I honestly do not believe that is the one single thought that is the cause for my sleeplessness, it never caused it before and I doubt it would come to bother me for no particular reason. I believe the cause of my sleeplessness to be almost all factors of my life, combined into one big, evil creature, bearing the entirety of its weight on my soul….

Hour 19:
Having stared at my dresser and the wall and the floor and the ceiling for the last eight hours, I decide that I must continue my long-lived day, making it bleed into two days. I get myself out of bed and shower for the third time since I last slumbered and then watch some more television. I go out into my car, which is now covered in frost. I never fathomed that I would find the need for a frost wiper in the desert but here I was without one. So I made my defroster and numerous swipes of the windshield wipers do the work and then proceeded to drive to the facility in which I receive my education. Along the way I sing to the perpetual music that is stuck playing in my car because turning it off would mean that I would be alone to my thoughts. I did that for the last eight hours, so I welcomed the same old songs once again. In my opinion I sing beautifully-- solely in my opinion.

Hour 20:
I walk into the last day of my computer course for the semester to a smiling instructor that personally hands me a test because of his proximity to the door. I then take the test and score a seventy percent using what I assume to be common logic for anyone who has spent his or her lives since the third grade on computers. After completing this, my instructor then informs me that I have the highest grade in my class, though I have the lowest attendance. He then makes a joking remark on how I am lucky that I am not dropped. I then respond with telling him that in the beginning of the year, he told us attendance didn’t matter; that it would reflect on what grades we got. I then told him that apparently I’m the exception to the rule….

Hour 21:
Walk into my psychology class early and sit in the same spot that I have sat in everyday since day one. Except for one time when somebody else sat in the spot unknowingly. After sitting down, a blonde girl whom I have noticed before decided to sit next to me, mainly because this was one of the few days I was lacking my normal blonde haired companion. This girl is exceptionally cute and I believe her to be rather intelligent because she is one of my fellow honors students and therefore must undergo some of the same requirements needed to pass the class, as I must endure. I have spoken but few words to her and most of which were in response to her smiling face at a remark I made commenting on what the professor had just said. In either case, I do not even know her name and because the semester is coming to a close and because I am the way I am, all I did was give her a smile before returning to that rather torturous look of attention that I always have upon my face. Another opportunity that I should have at least ventured down, or at least acknowledged existed at the time…

I love how absolutely shy and unresponsive I am. I love myself for it with all my heart…

Hour 22:
I walk into Math class and realize that my doom was already pre-destined from the previous class, when I failed to answer half of my test. As such, it was no surprise that my grade reflected a thirty nine point five percent, much to my dismay and shockingly the dismay of my teacher as well. Apparently I am still able to make it up by scoring seventy percent on my final exam; something I then deem to be worth studying for.

Hour 23:
I drive back home in an easterly direction and take the same freeway and road that I do everyday. I then release myself from the stranglehold of my seatbelt and open my door to make a quick departure from the cab of my vehicle. I must then decide how I will continue my day; through sleep or consciousness. I decide that the best way to ensure that I sleep at night is to stay awake throughout the course of the entire day, at least until eight o’clock. I begin counting down the hours until I will finally allow myself restful slumber…

Hour 24:
I begin documenting the last twenty-four hours of what I have been through. All of which happen to be everything that was previously stated. What a surprise…
Hour 25:
I contact my companions once again and wonder what it is that we will be doing today in order to keep me relatively sane. The answer is lunch. It’s quite nice having most of the day off by doing all my work in the wee hours of the morning; though it usually is spent trying to regain hours of sleep that were lacking from the night before. We decide to head down to one of my favorite restaurants.

Hour 26:
The waitress is not particularly affectionate at first, but along the way she seems to lighten up. The meal is expensive for merely consuming food and I end up buying something for my family so that they may enjoy something upon my arrival home. Before we leave I decide it would be best to exhaust myself even more and pursue the idea of a game of racquetball. It has been a while since I have played the game and even though I can barely calculate my part of the tab, we agree that a game is in order. So I drive to go play.

Hour 27:
I make a rather long stop at my house to look for my racquet. I have lost it in a clutter of materials under my bed; a place I really long to be. After much searching, the object of my desire presents itself and I am soon on my way. Before I go to the high school from which I graduated and still hold many memories sacred, I stop first by the place of my employment. I notice that the schedule for my spectacular, planned and expensive Saturday is ruined by the case of a ten-hour shift. No bother, it was already agreed upon that somebody else would be receiving that shift from me as to repay a favor, but looking on what the shift is I wonder if it will be possible to change it…

Hour 28:
The game was not as intense as I was used to, but my body could not tell the difference. It has been so long since I have played that furious game and I am not in the best of shape to play it. Truly it is a shame that both of my partners now live some distance, one only separated by fifteen miles, the other almost a hundred fold that distance. I decide to call it quits after only two games and decide to make my final stop home. I plan no further outings on fear that I might fall asleep behind the wheel. Is the fear justified? I have no way of telling but I would hate to wake up six months from now, learning that my single day with no slumber amounted into half a year gone in a coma…

Hour 29:
I arrive back at my house once more. This time I decide it is time to stay until I can no longer function and must lie in my bed. First I discover that my brother has friends over, by the sounds of games and some squeaky voice that can only belong to a pubescent man-child whom I have never met. I did not bother to learn his name or even introduce myself, because being incredibly wet with perspiration from my engagement of the last hour, I decided it would be necessary for the fourth shower since I awoke into consciousness. I then discover my mother is having friends over as well; a twenty-year-old mother of two, one child the age of two, the other the age of one. Having then decided to hide into my room, I was indecisive on what it was that I wanted to do. And I can no longer remember what it is exactly that I did in the first place being that I am quickly approaching the last of my hours.

Hour 30:
I am asked to put up Christmas decorations on the tree that was just recently purchased. Normally this task if one of the more festive events I enjoy partaking in but by this time I was too tired to care. It annoyed me putting up decorations to the constant droll of 1950’s and beyond Christmas music covering the entire range of Christmas emotions. And it also irritated me even more knowing that Christmas Eve, I will be working into Christmas at 12:45 in the morning, as well as later in the afternoon at 2:30 the day of Christmas. So as far as anything that is worth celebrating, I will not be there for it. I suppose it is only fitting that now that I am legally considered an adult, that any childhood joy in Christmas is also killed…

Hour 31:
My father arrives home and requests that I dine with my family tonight. Being that I hardly ever do, I continue to keep the tradition up and quickly decline. I then proceed to help him fry mushrooms though, being the culinary genius I envision myself as… I am deathly tired now and go into my room. I shut the lights out and pop open two sleeping pills. One to put me to sleep, the other to ensure I stay that way….

It is done, I lay waiting for the thing that has eluded ever so long to come back into my body. Rest now and awaken my child…
Previous musing: Juicy Whip Screwdrivers
Back to Diffused's Notebook :: Back to the Musings
Notes:
Well, wow. That was long. And detailed. And it sucks that you had that much trouble getting to sleep- wakefulness for extended periods of time are never a good thing. Indeed, sometimes fight clubs form in basements of bars as a result. And soap, and such.


   [disillusioned (J :: M) 12/12/03 5:52 AM]



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