Insomnia, or, Why Bother Sleeping When You Can Stay Awake All Night Wondering What Happened To All The Backstreet Boys?

Every once in a while, I, like everyone else ever, have insomnia. It’s just that insomnia usually isn’t a problem for me. I’m good at sleeping. It’s a great hobby, and a lot of times, about the only one I can afford. I’ve worked nights for ten years now, and spent a good chunk of that time in school. Thanks to that erratic schedule, I’ve been obligated to be up at literally any time of a day for the better part of a decade. As a result I’ve learned to be able to sleep at basically any time of the day (Side note – Also, I have no more qualms with drinking or eating ice cream at absolutely any time within any 24 hour period. This is one of my super powers). I love napping. It’s like time traveling, and it makes me feel less stabby. I like to think I have a natural talent for sleeping. So when I can’t sleep? It’s usually because I can’t help but let my mind race. When I can’t sleep, that’s when my crazy really comes out.

Here is a list of some of the kinds of thoughts I’ve had that kept me awake while I was trying to sleep:

Various things that I’ve done, not done, said, or not said, over the past 30 years that I regret, including:

— Bringing cross stitching to middle school

— The script I wrote when I was 12 for the show Seaquest DSV, because I had a massive crush on one of the actors. I don’t regret writing the script as much as I did sending it. No one other than my mom saw my scrapbook homage I made for him, so it doesn’t seem nearly as embarrassing as it should have been.

— Basically almost everything that happened in middle school, come to think of it.

— Telling the opening band I got to meet a few years ago “nah, we didn’t get tickets to the show, they just pulled us off the street by luring us in with free beer”. In hindsight, they probably didn’t appreciate the humor, but at least they weren’t any good even before my demoralizing pep talk.

— Drunken attempt at swimming with dolphins who were, sadly, not impressed with our drunken white girl dolphin calls. I really miss the camera I sacrificed to the dolphin gods for our safe passage though.

The occasional fight, beginning to the end, that I just imagine I would have with someone.

Mild existential crisises, including:

— Oh my god, I’m 34 now. Where has my life gone? I’ll never be an astronaut now! Not that I ever wanted to be one, but the option is definitely off the table now.

— I’m never going to learn to curl my hair, or learn the art of walking really sexy in high heels. Basically, I would make a terrible trophy wife. Is it too late to find a trust fund too?

— Does anyone else suck this badly at being an adult? I have to be in the top 10, at least.

I pee way too much. It’s not like a disorder you’d see in a commercial for a drug or anything. My bladder is just very suggestible, it caves easily to peer pressure. You say you have to pee? Why, I do too now, thank you for asking. Thinking about how annoying it is I pee so much? Excellent idea, I better go do that. Someone complains that they’ve had to pee for hours? I’ll go take a sympathy pee for you.

Did I ever get Pirates of the Caribbean 4? Better go check. (Side note – Nope. Off to amazon we go!)

My belly button lint smells. Should it smell? Should I even know what my belly button smells like?? Would the husband notice if I sniffed his belly button to compare? (Side note – He does notice. And he does not approve of my research. Also, I think the lint thing may just be me. Shit.)

Do I pluck my eyebrows enough? Are they getting unruly? I better go check. I have to pee anyway.

I should try Ambien. But what if I try it when the husband isn’t around and I wake up outside wearing nothing but chicken feathers and a sombrero? AND WHERE DID THE FEATHERS AND HAT COME FROM??? Is there a featherless chicken getting sunburned in the neighborhood?

Seriously, what did happen with all the Backstreet Boys? Didn’t one do porn? Oh no, wait, I think that was the nerd from Saved By The Bell.

I’m so nervous about hurricanes. I mean, I’m narcissistic enough that I’m sure I would live, but I’m also materialistic and would be sad to lose a lot of my stuff. This puts a damper on my plan to fake my death to get out of student loans and move to a tropical island. Of course, I get so anxious about just the idea of moving or job hunting that I’d probably have to get a bunch of Xanax anyway, so it might work out.

Oh my god, of course I need to know terrifying things about donating sperm that no one ever talks about! Tell me more, now! And while I’m at it, I should probably read this article on TV shows that should’ve been cancelled already. Hey, since I’m up, let’s read about man-o-wars! Oh, that reminds me, I need to look up that one guy to see what movie he’s been in! (Side note – The answer was Peter Facinelli. This has been bugging the shit out of me since I saw him in Supergirl the other day. He was in Nurse Jackie, and played a doctor that I just wanted to punch every time he was on the screen.)


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