Journal of an Insomniac

Thursday, November 4th 1999; 9:45 AM:

I had a bit of a problem sleeping last night and I’m not quite certain why. I could have just a bit too much on my mind lately or there could be something physiological going on. But in any case, I’m at school, waiting for chemistry to start, so I thought I would take a few moments to write something down, being that I have already finished the majority of the crossword puzzle in today’s Wildcat.

The guys should be here soon. They will undoubtedly ask for help on the crossword and maybe, just maybe, help on the homework that is due tomorrow. That is, if they even attempted it. I need to start giving them the wrong answers.

Sunday, November 7th 1999; 10:10 AM:

I got home from work last night at around 11:30 to find my roommates with about 10-15 people in the living room watching “The Crocodile Hunter”. Apparently they had planned a party and didn’t tell me about it.

I made myself a drink and went to my room just to chill out alone for a few. Whatshername… a chick that I used to pseudo-date for a little while, Alison or Ashley or something that begins with an A, walks in a little buzzed and lays down on my bed and starts rolling around…

“Your bed is SOOOO comfy!!”

Why she couldn’t act like that when we were dating is beyond me. In any case, I kicked A-name out of, I mean off of, my bed just before my girlfriend showed up. As is her usual, she got belligerent-drunk, started shit with my friends, and had to be carried downstairs before someone killed her. I took her home about an hour and a half after she got here.

Me, on the other hand… I’m still having a hell of a time trying to sleep. The nights have slowly gone from mildly restless to moderately disturbing. Last night was the worst it has been since I started on this little bout of insomnia. I think I only slept about 4 hours. Tonight I will try some OTC meds.

Thursday, November 11th 1999; 8:16 AM:

Well, the Tylenol PM officially doesn’t work anymore. It does kinda work, but only when I take a damn-near-lethal dosage of it. I decided to cut out the Tylenol for, hopefully, more natural forms of sedation. Besides, I may need my kidneys some day. We’ll see if swimming at night before I go to bed does the trick.

School is being a pain in the ass, but what more can I say about that? I’ve been busting my ass to keep up, but I am working full time and going to school full time, so it’s to be expected. Damn, a coke sounds good right about now…

Tuesday, November 23rd 1999; 2:28 PM:

The insomnia is finally starting to get to me. It’s now been almost two weeks since I have had a decent night of sleep, and three weeks since I have had a natural night of sleep. Last night is the worst it has ever been, I’m not sure of an exact number, but I would be surprised if I had 90 minutes of sleep. And to get those ninety minutes, I had to take two shots of JD.

I’ve tried swimming, smoking, showering, reading, listening to music, watching TV, taking a walk around the neighborhood, and the occasional… well you know. Well not a damn thing worked.

I went online this morning and looked up cures for insomnia on Alta Vista, only to realize that some people have a hard time sleeping after they work out, smoking, listening to music or walking long distances. So much for all of my theories…

This prof is starting to get on my nerves. The guy smells like bourbon and pipe tobacco, I wish he would just shut the hell up…

Saturday, November 27th 1999; 3:15 AM:

Well, it finally happened. My girlfriend and I broke it off. She essentially said that I was insufferable since my bout of insomnia started. I think the chick needs to grow up a bit and not start shit with my friends every time she fucking drinks. That’s the last time I date a chick who is 18!

Can’t sleep more than oh about 20-30 minutes a night now. When I do sleep, it’s more of a conscious dream than actual sleep, although I keep having the same dream.

I am crossing a catwalk inside a cave when it gives way. I fall and hit the side of the cave wall, bouncing and falling, hitting and falling until I finally wake up. Whoever said that you die if you hit the ground in a dream is a bloody idiot.

Well if you can’t tell, I am progressively getting more and more irritable. Everyone, including myself, is starting to get on my friggin’ nerves. I’m not sure if it’s my fault or theirs anymore.

Friday, December 3rd 1999; 12:38 PM:

I have taken to tape recording my journal entries, due to the fact that I am having a hard time reading my own handwriting anymore. I know what the words are, and I know what the definitions are, but they might as well be numbers, ‘cause words in a sentence no longer make any sense when written down.

I had an attack in the middle of Latin class today, I have no idea what brought it on, I just know I had to leave class and sit outside for about twenty minutes ‘cause I was hyperventilating.

I just hope that sometime in the future, when I play this tape, I will be able to understand what I am saying. My speech is getting worse and worse, too, or at least that’s what people have been telling me. One of these days, I will be able to get… why is that chick looking at me like that…? Hey you! What the hell is your problem?!

Wednesday, December 8th 1999; 10:10 PM:

I just got out of work. Spent most of my time today talking to a five-inch tall Puerto Rican who was standing next to my computer on my desk. Miguel talks a lot of shit considering how small he is. I haven’t quite determined if it’s because he is Puerto Rican or if it is a napoleon complex he has. No matter, I’m sure I can take him anyway.

The girl I have been dating for the past couple of weeks is starting to get concerned, she wants me to see a doctor or a shrink or something. She says that I always look like I’m ‘zoned out’ and my rants don’t make any sense at all.

I think she just doesn’t like the fact that I am making friends with a Puerto Rican.

Tuesday, December 14th 1999; 11:40 AM:

Finally broke down and went to doctor and a shrink. Still haven’t slept lately so, I’m not so sure what the hell the shrink was babbling on about, said something about some sort of anxiety something, I’m not sure, the picture behind his head started waving at me. Also said something about the reoccurring dream I’m having, but didn’t understand that either.

In any case, the doctor gave me drugs. It’s a new pill called Ambien, it’s supposed to help cure insomnia. So now I am sitting waiting at the pharmacy for my prescription to be filled.

My girlfriend is happy that I am trying to get help, probably the happiest I have seen her since we started dating. Miguel called me a pussy and spat in my water.

Wednesday, December 15th 1999; 2:15 PM:

I’ll be damned if the pill didn’t work! I slept like a baby last night. After last night, I am quite convinced that 1 Ambien will knock out a full grown Clydesdale after an all night coke bender! I got a good 10 hours of sleep last night.

Details about last night are kind of sketchy, I’m not exactly sure, but I might have fallen asleep lying on top of my girlfriend last night. I will need to apologize to her when I see her tonight.

On other fronts, I am writing coherently again, and Miguel seemed to disappear off of the face of the planet. I think he’s pissed off at me, I might just be the only person I know that got ditched by his imaginary friend.

Thursday, December 16th 1999; 8:09 AM:

Well she dumped me. Apparently, not only did I fall asleep lying on top of her, but we were semi-‘busy’ in the process. I don’t blame her, I probably would have done the same had the roles been reversed. I don’t think we were a good fit anyway, she’s a little too crazy for me. And I’m not talking, ‘get drunk and get naked’ crazy, I’m talking, ‘cries over a Folgers coffee commercial’ crazy.

At this point I’m not sure if she was ever real, or she was a figment of my imagination.

RTFM

I have always seen business trips as golden opportunities. They are a chance to see different parts of the country, or world if you are lucky, and do so for free. They allow for new experiences, from things that others would find commonplace to the extraordinary, and all on the company dime, no less.

Last year, I was flown out to a small town just outside of Texas, and for the first time in my life, had an opportunity to rent a car. Now to others, this might not seem all that impressive, but considering I was not yet 25, and I had not one clue how to get from Dallas-Fort Worth Airport to Waxahachie, TX, this was to be a grand adventure for me.

I knew the company reserved some type of compact car for me at the rental agency, but like anything else, I tried to slither myself into something better.

“Good afternoon sir.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Can I see your ID, sir?”

I handed him my ID and swiveled my head back and forth a few times, just getting a feel for what was going on around me. The agent looked down and started typing away at his computer.

“Well sir, it seems that we have you down for either an Oldsmobile Alero or a Ford Focus.”

“Excuse me?!” I tried like hell to sound surprised; unfortunately, I am nowhere near as good as an actor as I am a cook or a singer.

“Well sir, whoever made your reservations specifically stated that you were to get a compact car.”

“I was specifically told that I was to get a Mustang.”

I can’t help it; I never have been able to. I always like to see how far I can take things before people realize that I am bluffing. It is something that has got me into more trouble than is reasonable to explain in this medium.

“Well sir, it says right here that you are only to get a compact car, and those are the choices that we have.”

“Can I speak to your supervisor?”

“Of course you can, sir.”

I must admit, this was quite the stupid mistake on my part. I have the tendency, along with trying to bullshit my way into a better situation, to assume that if I bitch enough, businesses are just going to give me what I want to get me the hell out of their line. Unbeknownst to me, the rental agency had my travel coordinator’s phone number on file.

The agent went into the back and grabbed his supervisor, who promptly picked up the phone and placed a call to my travel coordinator.

“Sir, my supervisor is calling the person who set up your reservations to clear up this mistake; it should only be a couple of minutes.”

I hate it when people call my bluff.

A few minutes later the supervisor comes out of his office with a grin on his face.

“Sir, your travel coordinator said, and I quote, ‘There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that he is to get anything other than a compact unless all you have left are Mustangs.’”

“Is that all she said?”

“She laughed for a while too, and explained that you like to play pranks on people that you work with.”

It’s a good thing that she has a good sense of humor. The supervisor went back to his office snickering, and the agent behind the desk, now with a vindicated smile on his face turns to me and asks me again:

“So what will it be sir, the Alero or the Focus.”

Now embarrassed and admittedly pouting a little, I made the rest of the answers in our conversation as short as possible.

“Whichever one’s the cheapest.”

“Ok sir… would you like a vehicle with or without the built in navigation system?”

On my way out of work the day before, I hastily printed out directions that I obtained from the Internet from destination to destination. However, I neglected to pick the directions up from the printer on my way out of the door.

“With, please.”

I was handed my receipt, along with two booklets. One detailed the basic features of the Oldsmobile Alero. The other pertained to the on-board navigation system equipped on the vehicle. I loaded the rental car, started it up, and did what every technically minded person does when faced with a new gadget. I immediately flung the instruction booklet onto the floorboard of the backseat without so much as cracking it open, preferring the I’ll-figure-it-out-my-damn-self method of training on new technology. It was a mistake I would have the next two hours to regret.

After only a couple minutes of fiddling around with the device, I learned how it worked well enough that I could program a destination into it. I entered the address of a hotel on a list of hotels that my company normally uses to put people up in, and I took off.

Navigating the surface streets was easy enough using the system. A warm and friendly female voice followed an attention-grabbing chime to guide me to my destination. The goal of the system was obviously to feed me audio clues, rather than visual, so that I would be more inclined to keep my eyes on the road.

“(BING!) Right turn in 100 feet…”

I got onto the freeway and accelerated, I traveled only about three quarters of a mile before I reached my first exit. It was a freeway junction just outside of DFW airport.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

Here is where I had my first trouble. The junction I was about to enter had one exit that branched off into two exits, one northbound, one southbound. I had a feeling I was going the wrong way, but it wasn’t justified until I glanced down and got a look at the GPS system on the dash.

I pulled off of the freeway to turn around when the voice came up again. I stopped in a McDonald’s parking lot to let the system regain its bearings.

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

With the new route in front of me, I resumed my travels. I passed by a junior high school that was just letting out for the day. As I slowed down to let the kids cross the street, I received a handful of odd looks from students, faculty, and parents alike. It took me a second to realize that if I saw a Mexican driving in my neighborhood, yelling obscenities and flipping off his dashboard, I would be a little worried too.

I started heading towards DFW again, without a clue as to my whereabouts, only knowing that I was in Dallas. Following my co-pilot a little less blindly than before, I started to pay more attention to the display than the voice. I glanced up for a couple of seconds to see where I was driving, as not to kill myself, and the voice popped up again:

“(BING!) U-turn in 50 feet…”

At this time I was in the right lane, going 60 miles an hour. I slammed on the brakes, causing the driver behind me to follow suit. I traveled across three lanes of traffic, missed causing an inadvertent PIT maneuver by only mere inches, and barely made the u-turn without getting killed or killing the people around me.

I made it back onto the freeway, southbound, the way I was supposed to be going. I was a little shaken up, and glad that a cop didn’t see the General Lee impersonation my rental car just pulled off. After a couple of minutes I finally settled down, it would be some time before I had another exit to take.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

I saw a billboard for Six Flags over Texas, and I took a moment to think about what I was going to do with all of the free time I was going to have over the next three days. I had never been to Dallas before, and I started thinking about taking a day to see the sights, and at least one day for the amusement park. It had been forever since I had been on a roller coaster and it sounded like a good time-

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

Due to my daydreaming session, I neglected the fact that I was driving and missed the turn. I pulled off again, turned around and started to head in the right direction. Now completely frustrated, I kept my speed down to 45 mph, as not to miss any more exits. When realizing that the posted limit was 55 and the observed limit was somewhere in the 80’s, I lowered my right foot just a little more.

Fifteen miles of driving and I was about to hit another junction. This time I was prepared, I was paying attention, I knew exactly what exit I was supposed to take and how far away it was.

“(BING!) Veer right in 300 feet…”

Another junction, another exit.

“(BING!) Recalculating route…”

Another wrong turn. I took exit A instead of exit B, leading me northbound instead of southbound, again. I cocked my arm back to knock the living hell out of the navigation system. I realized that this was a fight that my fist would most definitely lose, and I was sure as hell not going to be able to get around without the stupid thing.

At this point, it was almost as if the system was starting to get frustrated with me. I could sense it in the now not-so-friendly female voice that followed the chime.

“(BING!) Left turn in 100 feet, asshole…”

It was like driving with a nagging girlfriend. Granted, it may have been all in my head, but I did hear it nonetheless.

Now back on course, it was a straight shot of 20 miles or so until I reached my hotel. I spent a good 15 out of those 20 minutes en route trying to find a radio station that played something that wasn’t country or in Spanish, not being a huge fan of the music of my people. Relieved, I finally arrived at my destination.

I eagerly jumped out of the car, wanting to get a small nap before I had to be at a sister site of ours for training. I stretched for a couple of minutes, popped every joint in my body, and walked inside to check in to my temporary home.

“Hi, I have reservations.”

“Can I see your ID sir?”

Again I hand a clerk my ID, but this time I wasn’t expecting the response I received.

“Uh, sir… We don’t have a reservation for you here…”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no record of you having a room with us this week.”

“I’m with-“

“I know who you are with sir, but there’s no reservation for you.”

At a loss for what to do next, I double checked my itinerary and confirmed what I was afraid of. As it turns out, the list of hotels that my company uses for business has more than one hotel on it. The hotel that I programmed into the GPS system wasn’t the one listed on my itinerary. I was at least 5 miles away from my hotel, and only 2 ½ hours away from my training.

After finally getting to the right hotel, getting checked in and in my room, I had a chance to take a look at my watch. I had managed to make a simple drive of just over an hour last just under two. As I laid down on the bed to relax for a few minutes, I thought about something I tell people about their computers often.

“When in doubt, read the fucking manual!”

Are You There God? It's Me, Jake...

Last night, after 6 games of MLB slugfest and a rather horrid case of insomnia, I had a rather lengthy dream.

I was vacationing in Barcelona alone, taking in the sights, soaking in the culture, and meeting new people along the way. I stopped in to a rather small café for a quick cup of coffee and a bite to eat. The inside of the café was no larger than my bedroom at home, big enough for only a few tables and chairs.

I took my order to a small table in the corner, sat down, and proceeded to eat my lunch, picking up a local newspaper and pretending to be able to read it so I didn’t look too much like a tourist.

A gentleman, about my age, height, and build walked up to me and started a conversation.

“Do you mind if I take this seat?”

“Take it where?”

“Do you mind if I sit in it?”

I looked about the room and saw that I was the only patron in the place, which I thought was very odd, considering the time of day.

“There are other tables… Wait, are you an American? You speak English very well.”

“Let’s just say that I am well traveled.”

“Good enough, I have been looking for someone to talk to that I can actually understand.”

The gentleman put his food down and sat down across the table from me. An odd presence emanated from him, it was kind of like an aura. It was oddly comforting.

“My name is Jake, and you?”

“People call me God.”

Always the smartass, I had to say something to that.

“They must have you mistaken for me.”

“No, everyone calls you jackass; you’re the only one who calls you God.”

This guy is good.

“If you are God, what are you doing in a café in Spain?”

“First of all, I am not in a café in Spain, neither are you for that matter. You are dreaming. I am here to answer a few questions that you have.”

“Alright, but if I am dreaming, how do I know that it’s really you, and not some manifestation of my subconscious?”

“There’s no way for me to prove that to you, at least not here.”

“But you are God…”

“I may be God, but you have already made up your mind regarding the nature of dreams, and to a certain extent, reality. Not to mention that in all of my infinite wisdom, there is only one thing I can do to prove that I am God.”

“Explain.”

“Well, if I tell you something only you know, then you are definitely going to think that I am a mere manifestation of your subconscious. If I tell you or show you something that you have never heard or seen before, you will only believe that I am a mere figment of your imagination. The only way I could prove that I am God, here and now, would be to kill you.”

“Ok, just for arguments sake, and because I like being alive, I am going to take your word for it. But can’t you just force me to believe that you are God?”

“I could, but then I would have to take free will away from everyone else too.”

“Good point. Well, obviously if you are here, you know that I have some questions.”

“Of course, I know the questions you are going to ask, I know the answers to the questions, and I know how this conversation is going to end.”

“How is this any fun for you?”

“Just ask, this is a dream remember? We don’t have an abundance of time.”

“First and foremost on my mind is the situation with…”

“Jake, the only thing I can say about that, is that you need to let it go. You are both so damn stubborn that the situation isn’t going to resolve itself anytime soon. You are going to give yourself a heart attack or an embolism if you don’t learn to go forward. Things are finally going in the right direction for you, don’t let yourself get derailed. Keep your focus on the future. Besides, I know you try to be the best man you can be, you know that you try to be the best man you can be, that’s all that matters.”
“I try, I try like hell to stay focused, but thinking about the thing tends to get me ignited…”

“And what good is it doing you, Jake? You walk around tense and agitated when you think about the whole thing. You aren’t solving things; you are just making them worse for yourself. It’s going to affect your health and push away everyone if you let it eat you up. Besides, friends shouldn’t act that way.”

“Ok I will… try… to let it go.”

“Atta boy.”

“Well, besides that, why am I so damn tense all of the time?”

“Here’s a better question, why do you let everything bother you the way it does?”

“I thought you knew that already…”

“I do, but I’m not here to give you the answers, I am just here to help you find them yourself.”

“Ok, ok… I guess that a lot of the reason I am always so angry is the fact that I never feel vindicated. I always, always feel like the only way to make the people around me understand my point of view is to fight or to hurt them.”

“And how has that been working out for you lately?”

“Not so good.”

“Jesus Christ, Jake, do you think that maybe that attitude is the very reason no one wants to see your point of view?”

“Wait a second; did you just use the lord’s name in vain?”

“He is my kid, remember?”

“The bottom line is that I feel like no one listens to me.”

“No, the bottom line is that you have a fear of being wrong and everyone thinking that you are stupid.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The attitude promotes intolerance and pretension. And let’s face it Jake, you are very intolerant of people who aren’t as smart as you and less than tolerant of people that are smarter than you.”
“Well that’s not a fair assessment. That just about covers everyone!”

“Hey, it’s your attitude, not mine.”

“I know that I have a short fuse with dumb people, but I’m not sure I follow how I have a problem with smart people.”

“It all boils down to one thing, you don’t like people who are smarter than you because well…”

“Well what?”

“They are smarter than you. One of these days you are going to accept the fact that you aren’t me, you don’t know everything, and it is entirely possible to be very, very intelligent without being an Einstein. You need to look at it as a blessing that you have the brains that you do have, and always realize that it could be much, much worse. Always remember that you don’t have to demean people because that they don’t have the knowledge yet, they are just untaught. You can’t blame someone for being malnourished if they have never been properly fed, can you? The bottom line, teach the ones who don’t know, and learn from the ones who do.”

“Ok, that I can do.”

“One more question, at least for now.”

“What is my purpose?”

“We both know that you aren’t ready for that answer, you don’t even understand the question yet. Besides, it would take all of the fun out of your life if you knew why you were here. Well Jake, I am afraid that our time here is up.”

He snapped his fingers, and I awoke, sitting on my recliner in the living room, in a panic and a cold sweat.

I haven’t quite decided if it was God or a documentary that was on TV when I went to bed that made me have the dream, but it doesn’t make the conversation any less valid. I could only hope that this becomes a reoccurring dream.