What the hell is this?

I Can't Stand [Meeting] You is a collection of all the ridiculous things I've written to and about drummer and composer Stewart Copeland.

I actually did meet him for about five crazy seconds in 2007, again for a few exciting moments in August 2009, and my most recent (and most thrilling!) encounter took place in October 2009, where I proved myself capable of being, yet again, a total dork in the man's presence.

I can't believe what I get up to. And neither should you.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Dear Stewart,

So, ever since I started telling you my boring-ass dreams, my sleep has been all messed up.

I'm no fool.

Maybe there's no connection, but on the (very) off chance there is, for the future, unless my dream contains something incredibly awesome and mind-blowing, I'm going to keep it to myself.

Beyond what I'm about to say right now, I won't be discussing my sleep problems, either, unless what I have to say is particularly funny. Yeah, I make the rules around here, and I make 'em to suit myself.

My mom and sister have insomnia, and now it appears that I do, too. Maybe it's something that will just up and go away by itself. For now, it's been my friend for about two weeks. What this means: I lie in bed listening to Patrick snore, with a sweet fat black and white cat named Franny holding down one of my arms (she seems to think that without her diligence, my arms would float up to the ceiling all by themselves), and I think to myself, "If I fall asleep right now I'll get six hours of sleep... if I fall asleep right now I'll get 4 hours of sleep... if I fall asleep right now I'll get 3 hours of sleep..." and then it's 4:30 and my alarm is set to go off at 5:15 so that I can get to work by 7 a.m.... and driving on the freeway on 45 minutes of sleep seems like a really bad idea.

I'm not sure what's causing this. Age? Genetics? (Is insomnia genetic?) My mother is doing okay, still undergoing chemotherapy, still hanging in. Nothing has changed in her condition. She has good days and bad days but I think they're mostly good. Work is the same as always. Patrick and I are mostly good; the parts that aren't all good are still pretty damn OK. One bad thing happened last week that I might try to hide here at the tail end of this paragraph... on Thursday of last week, our wonderful boy cat Puma died. We'd been worried about him but thought that by having massive dental work we'd solved whatever problems he was having with eating, but it turns out that no, our boy had lung cancer. I've had cats die before. It's never ever easy, but this one was in particular really hard. He was a special kitty, and we miss him so much. The sleep problems started before this, so I'm just telling you because, well, I miss him. As silly as it might sound to people, this has turned out to to be a big deal in our lives. I'm so glad we have Franny and Dora still, but wow, that black cat named Puma with a stubby tail left a big hole in our hearts.

The sleep thing has been going on, about every other day, for a couple of weeks. Maybe three. Friends have suggested that I take something in the evening before I go to sleep, and I've tried that a few times, usually feeling a little guilty about it. I have a little something that's prescribed for me (no biggie; it's very mild) or I take a Benadryl, which knocks me out quickly and easily. Not taking anything means that I'm assuming that past issues with falling asleep were flukes and tonight, well, tonight I will be a champion sleeper just like I've always been.

But then I lie there and lie there, and I think about getting up and doing something quiet but constructive (dishes, laundry, dusting) or doing something loud and disruptive (shredding old bank and personal items, cleaning the closet), and instead I do nothing. Sometimes I get out my iPhone and I read and re-read the New York Times. Sometimes I post stupid status updates (3 a.m. status updates from me, stone cold sober and awake when I don't want to be, are no fun at all) on Facebook, or if my friend in Minnesota or my other friend in Pennsylvania have played moves in our never-ending Scrabble games, I might play a bit of Scrabble. One of them has anxiety issues so my deal is minor in comparison. The other one has a young daughter, but he might just be a night owl. Last night I realized that the stupid iPhone in bed was a bad idea, so I left it in the kitchen. After discussing the day's events with Patrick, I turned out the light, waited for the cat to come claim an arm and I actually fell asleep. In spite of my success at falling asleep and staying asleep, I still only ended up with 4.5 hours of sleep, and it's not enough.

I'm sleepy today, and it's going to be a long night (tech rehearsals at City Garage for the next show started last night; read all about the next show at http://www.citygarage.org/), but maybe if I'm smart about it, I can not let this be an ongoing problem. Maybe if I finally clean the bathtub (disruptive and loud at 3 a.m., but a little planning ahead would serve me well), I could take a hot tub bath like my mom is always recommending. That's supposed to help. Maybe not drinking any Diet Cokes after 3 or eating food atfter 7 will help. Maybe keeping a sleep diary will help. I don't know. I'm going to try doing it. I'm also going to try slipping my dreams about you into my barely waking hours and see if that makes falling asleep later any easier.

You never know what's gonna work until you try something, do you.

Love you,
Irene

3 comments:

foobella said...

Eww, sorry to hear about Puma. Glad you have other kitties to love on.

And your sleep problems? Ugh. I had insomnia when I was a kid, who knows why, but it eventually went away.

Now? I can't stay awake long enough to finish the fanciful stories I make up in my head as I lie in bed. You know, like maybe you're walking down the boardwalk one day and turn around to see a lanky, silver fox of a man riding a bicycle in your direction. He stops right in front of you and asks, "Do I know you?" to which you sputter "Uhh. umm. I don't know. Do you?", all the while knowing exactly who he is. Then he says "I remember you! You were at my book signing and you gave me tickets to your show! I wanted to go, but I was so busy working on my commissioned pieces. Would you like to go get some coffee right now?..... and you can fill in the rest. Try it out. It works for me!

Irene said...

Substitute "would you like to shack up in the nearest hotel for a couple of hours" for "go get some coffee," and I can honestly say that I've tried that one. It tends to work. Thanks, Stewart!

The insomnia apparently was (temporarily?) solved by the work at the theatre. I was so wiped out by the getting up at 5, getting home at 11:30 or 12 schedule that I was sleeping pretty hard and easily. This week is back to normal.

Maybe I grew out of it too. Now about this stupid adult acne...

foobella said...

Glad to hear you finally got some sleep. I guess "activity" would be a good sleep aid, wouldn't it? lol I probably should get more of that, too.

I can't help you with the acne, though, sorry. ;)