Tag Archives: Insomnia

Insomnia, or How I Sometimes Can’t Sleep for No Reason.

I started writing a post last night that began with, “Pretty safe to say I’m not falling back to sleep anytime soon. I keep having these awful dreams where nfjen urg vq nrje;qg mrewgre.” So I think it’s time to talk to my doctor about things I can do to help me sleep.

That leads me to the topic of this post (now that’s what I call a segue!): insomnia. Occasionally I’ll have my bouts of it. It usually happens when I’m undergoing stress, or when I’m experiencing a personal dilemma. However, in this case it’s a combination of rampant nightmares and not knowing how much caffeine is too much caffeine when you work a shift that runs from 3:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m.

The worst part is that I normally am very productive when these things hit. I’ll stay up late at night and write, sketch, take weird photographs of myself with stuffed animals…

Gee golly willickers, however did my hair get on that stuffed turtle-saur's head?

This time it’s the complete opposite. I wake up from the dreams, sit in my pajamas (read: underwear) on my couch and watch “The Office” on Netflix while eating almonds and occasionally drinking red wine. What used to be a space occupied by creative outbursts now houses lethargy and loneliness. Sloth. Gluttony. Me in my underwear. Sins running rampant.

So I’ve decided to do something about this. I need a challenge, but one I can do at night. I thought about giving myself the challenge of doing individual photo series of each object in my apartment, but then I realized that might get monotonous since many of the objects interact with each other.

I also considered doing a kind of “found at night” project, where I drive out into the world and find something interesting, then photograph it and post it here. That was an OK idea until I was driving home (the long way) tonight and saw the kind of hooligans that float around the downtown after midnight. If my primary goal were to photograph drunk white trash wandering around with paper bags full of who-knows-what, then I would have a never-ending supply of material.

As I thought about this last night, mulling over the many ways I can make good of such a late hour, I decided that I can’t make a plan for creativity. If it’s going to happen, it will happen. Maybe I’m not feeling creative right now because I have no inspiration. And if that’s the case, perhaps I should work on finding inspiration before I force myself to start churning out useless crap that no one wants to see.

Speaking of which, here’s a photo of a flower, taken in my parents’ back yard after a rain cloud passed over. It’s a metaphor for religion, and how the dew always springs fresh from fertile ground, and how with rough hands and tender hearts we can conquer our fears and make our names known, make our names remembered for the ages as kings and queens of eternity. We will rise up and forever be aligned with the brightest stars, with the farthest reaches of the universe, from the rings of Saturn to the very deepest depths of Uranus.
Or something like that.

Here we are, flowers of the universe.