I am sick, so instead of posting something of substance (like the dirty details of my illness), I am posting photographs I have taken (none recently). You’re welcome.
Green and Brown and Blue
27 Sunday Sep 2009
Posted in 1000 Words
Monthly Archives: September 2009
Seven Quick Takes
25 Friday Sep 2009
Posted in La Familia, Seven Quick Takes, TV: The Other Brain Drain
1. My great uncle, Uncle Jim, died this past week. He was the patriarch of the family. He was in his nineties. His showing is today, and his funeral is tomorrow. He was a very devout Catholic man, and although I didn’t get to see him often, I was quite fond of him. My father is rather notorious among his relatives for having been a rather, er, incorrigible youth, even through his twenties. He has a rather colorful past. I’m told he put Dennis the Menace to shame. (He actually still acts like he’s about forty years younger than he really is, but I’ve heard stories. I’m willing to give credit where credit is due. He has improved quite a bit!) Uncle Jim and I talked a couple of years ago, and after quite a bit of talking, he was baffled that I could be “Joey’s” girl. He proclaimed me a party pooper (jokingly, of course), and then began to laugh at my father’s fate of having such a straight-laced daughter after he was anything but as a young man. I will miss Uncle Jim’s stories, but I pray his soul will soon join his siblings’. Tell my grandparents how dearly I love and miss them, Uncle Jim, and if it’s not too much to ask, give Jesus a high-five for me.
2. I often wonder if my father and I would have gotten along if we were the same age. I think he would have thought me a boring, know-it-all goody-two-shoes and I would have thought him an immature, temperamental sleaze bucket. However, I think that after some conversation, we’d hold much of the same opinions we hold of one another now. He’d still think I’m a know-it-all goody-two-shoes, but he would no longer think I’m boring; he would find me quite entertaining and easy to talk to. I would still think he’s all of those things, but I’d realize that he also is capable of maturity when absolutely necessary, his temperamental behavior comes from his sensitivity and insecurity, and that he has a good heart, and a rather big one at that. There would be much banter and an ever present desire to simultaneously hug him and deck him, but I’m pretty sure that would be mutual.
3. I was originally planning on only being able to go home in December for Christmas Eve through the weekend. However, things have aligned in such a way that I have been able to extend my stay when I go back. Plane tickets seem to be cheaper on Tuesdays, so I got my tickets Tuesday evening. I will be in Indiana from 22 December through 7 January. That’s a little over two weeks! I am immensely excited. I will get to meet Alice, and I will get to spend a lot of time with her. I’ll get to see my sister’s house and stay with her for a bit. Actually, I usually house hop when I go home. Now I’ll just be house hopping between my father’s house, my brother’s house and my sister’s house. I’m really looking forward to spending time with them all. It’ll be a year since I last saw them when I go home.
4. What Catholics Believe, Boston University’s name for RCIA, started up this week. I’ve been involved with the program every year since I went through it myself. I love it. It’s a great reminder of my own beginning wobbly steps four years ago. Who am I kidding?–I’m still stumbling constantly, and I’m still a Catholic neophyte. It renews my faith and gives me the opportunity to maybe hold others’ hands as they take their first wobbly steps. My role will be pretty much the same this year–leading a small group, emceeing every third week, coming up with small group questions and giving one or two talks each semester. This requires me to give up viewing The Vampire Diaries and Supernatural on Thursday nights. I’m used to giving up Supernatural, but this is the first year I’ve had to give up two television shows. I’m thankful that I can get both online, though. And, if I’m not mistaken, reruns of each week’s The Vampire Diaries is played on Saturdays. Can anyone confirm this? Can anyone give me a time? Even with two shows, it’s still worth it.
5. Today I found out who is on the committee for my thesis defense. I was also given an official date. My defense will be 14 December. I don’t think this will improve my already shaky relationship with Mondays, but at least it’s at 3:30 in the afternoon, so there’s that. I have to have my first draft in by 26 October. My advisor will have a week to go over everything and mark what I need to revise. I originally had until 12 November to submit my thesis to my examiners. However, that date has been moved back. I now have until 20 November. Do not let this confuse you; I have to have it all “done” with my first draft. Then I just get time to polish it and revise so it’s even better. 26 October is the big, scary date. Don’t ask me how things are going–that’s nerve-wracking to a grad student. Let it suffice that they’re going, and in the meantime, I wouldn’t mind you saying many, many prayers on my behalf. My patron saint is St Brigid. She’s the patron saint of scholars. Please direct your heavenly correspondence accordingly.
6. My father got a new cell phone today, and I was the first person the cutie called to make sure it worked properly and his numbers were transferred correctly. I think he just wanted an excuse to call me, though. 
He promised to give my love and prayers to everyone at Uncle Jim’s showing today, and he reminded me to pray for Uncle Jim (I already am). Then he asked if I’m still praying for him. I jokingly said, “Oh, no, I gave that up quite some time ago. You’re pretty much a lost cause.” And then his voice got panicky and sad as he said, “What? You think I’m a lost cause? If you think I’m a lost cause, then…” It broke my heart. I quickly told him that I was joking and that I still pray for him nearly every time I pray. He seemed to calm down after that. I still feel awful. I feel like I kicked his proverbial puppy. After I ran it over. Twice.
7. Dollhouse starts tonight! I’m really not one for television. Every time I turn it on randomly, I cringe and then say a quick prayer in thanksgiving that I’m more of a bookworm, anyway. However, there are a few shows I do enjoy, and that’s one of them. The only remaining one, after my Thursday shows, is Castle, which I just found out started up this week, and I missed it. I have a weekly online date with a friend while we watch Dollhouse. It’s good fun.
You can read other quick takes over at Conversion Diary.
Alice Thursday:The One-Month-Old Edition
24 Thursday Sep 2009
Posted in 1000 Words, Alice!, La Familia
My sister and I talked on the phone for about an hour last night. At one point, she had to go to the restroom, so she left me on speaker phone with Alice for about three minutes. Alice was cooing and giggling and otherwise being a Very Happy Baby, and I figured that telling her a joke would make her An Even Happier Baby. So, I told her a very awful, very silly children’s joke. She promptly began screaming bloody murder. Admittedly, though, I found the situation quite funny. I began laughing, and she didn’t seem to like that, so she started screaming more. I told my sister all of this when she came back, and she informed me that Sean also laughs when Alice screams. This makes me feel better. My little Ally-Angel is a drama queen, which is just another way of saying she’s a baby. Ha. (I’m fully aware that Alice was probably screaming because her mother left her side for all of two seconds and Alice was a hungry, hungry hippo and felt horribly neglected. I don’t really think she hated my joke that much. Give her a few years, then I’ll take the screaming seriously.)
Alice cocoon!
My most favorite picture of Alice in existence.
Alice is a VSP, too!
The Alice Flower, one of nature’s rarest and prettiest flowers. (Why, yes, I would like some baby with my tutu.)
Alice with her mama. I, for one, find it repulsive that my sister can look so cute without makeup on. Someone got the short end of the genetic stick, and it wasn’t her. (She doesn’t even possess The Paleness.)
Alice and Uncle Ben. Alice is pondering her favorite rice. Uncle Ben has his hand poised to backhand me, because he saw that comment coming. (Kidding, Uncle Ben doesn’t read my blog. He also sets the baby down before getting into brawls. Safety first.)
However, he has been training Alice as his backup. Remember, Alice, keep your thumb outside your fist and keep your wrist straight.
Teeny, tiny Alice with mah pappy/her grandfather King Kong. A-dorable. (Yes, I look like him. Yes, I know. Yes, he’s about 18 shades darker than me. Yes, he’s the reason I have a nose the size of Montana. And, yes, that Hawaiian shirt should be burned.)
Cooking Up Something Good
22 Tuesday Sep 2009
Posted in Domestic Life, Letters
A few minutes ago, one of our neighbors (We are not exactly on good terms with these neighbors–they started it and continued it, but they act like we did; I’ve tried to be polite, but it seems to make things worse. There’s a gigantic pink elephant in the hallway.) sneezed out in the hallway. Blessing someone when they sneeze is pretty much an automatic response for me, and so, without thinking, I loudly proclaim, “BLESS YO-!” and then quickly covered my mouth once I realized what I was saying. Jessica laughed. Our walls aren’t exactly thin, but they’re definitely not soundproof. Now he probably thinks we sit in our apartment and snoop on him, listening in to all of their conversations. I’m fairly certain this will not help matters. Jessica and I have decided that if I am ever chased by a serial killer, all he needs to do is sneeze. I’ll bless him and give away my hideaway. In the movie, the girl who plays me will be type-scripted as “Considerate Victim #1.” That’s a straight shot to the Oscars, ladies.
Anyway, that wasn’t what I meant this post to be about. I meant to share a link to a delightful site dedicated to letters. This may not interest anyone other than myself, but I feel as if it would be wrong to keep it to myself on my RSS feed. I think it is best described as letter pornography–er, except it’s not pornography. It’s just really, really good. My friend Tim passed it along to me, because he knew I would love it, and so I am passing it on to you. It is called Letters of Note. Enjoy.
I need chicken recipes. My roommate and I cooked dinner together last night using a 15-minute 25-minute (because the internet lies) lemon garlic chicken recipe that I found online, and while looking for it, I realized that we really don’t have many chicken recipes. We have that one (which was good, but always looking for better), and there is a chicken/rice bake dish that I make using Lipton onion soup mix, but beyond that? Nada. Well, I’m sure Jessica has some, but I need more. Ergo, I need your help.
I should probably mention that I am not much of a cook. That’s actually putting it nicely. I pretty much stink. What I can do, I can do decently well, but I really do not enjoy cooking. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I hate it–I don’t–but it’s just not my cup of tea. I will do it, though. So, I need quick, easy recipes. I don’t care if they take awhile to cook, but I just don’t want to spend a lot of time doing preparation or hanging out in the kitchen. I’d much rather be reading or writing or sleeping or watching a movie or, well, anything. The only real enjoyment I derive out of it is a sense of accomplishment in knowing that my roommate thinks it tastes good and I managed to not give her food poisoning.
I should also note that I am a very picky eater. I don’t eat cheese (I eat pizza and lasagna and Kraft mac ‘n’ cheese, but that’s about it). I don’t do mushrooms. I don’t do spicy. I don’t do sour cream. I don’t do nuts. I’m trying to think what else shows up in chicken recipes I keep coming across that I don’t like. I’m coming up blank, though.
Things I do like: onions, garlic, lemon, rice, pasta, vegetables, barbecue sauce, teriyaki sauce (we have a marinade from the store), non-cheesy tasting alfredo sauce (that’s more creamy than cheesy), tomato sauce, gravy.
Ok. I wrote all of that quickly, but I figured it would help you eliminate things or give you ideas. I’m hoping I didn’t forget anything. So, if you have any chicken recipes that are easy, quick to prepare and fit my delicately picky palate, please share. I would love you immensely.
Actually, if you have any recipes for ground turkey, feel free to share those, too.
Seven Quick Takes: That Which Comforts Me
18 Friday Sep 2009
Posted in Seven Quick Takes
1. I have these pajamas that I’ve had since I was twelve or so–it’s been so long, I can’t remember–but they are my favorite pajamas. They were light blue, and they had cows on them with “moooo” written out at random locations. The pants are long, and the top is a tank top. I call them my moo cow pajamas. The fabric is just the right degree of softness and thickness. I have yet to find pajamas that are quite as perfect. I wore those all the time. Now they are tattered and the blue is so pale that it’s almost white in spots. The top is practically see-through, so I always have to wear a sweatshirt over it when I wear it (my Wabash sweatshirt that my brother gave me is the standard), and the drawstring fell out years ago, so the pants can easily fall off if I’m not careful. My family always tells me that they’re going to throw them away or burn them, and they joke that they probably can stand up straight on their own, but I love those pajamas. They just comfort me and make me happy. Both the pajamas and the Wabash sweatshirt are back home. I miss them.
2. Actually, pajamas in general are very comforting. By pajamas, I mostly mean pajama pants. I always change out of whatever I’m wearing and put on pajama pants at night. I don’t have a lot of super casual clothing other than what I designate as pajamas, so pajamas are near and dear to my heart. I feel like I can drop the pretenses and the stress and reality and just be me, whoever that is.
3. Being wrapped up in a blanket always gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. It doesn’t matter what the weather or my current setting is like, it always transports me back to when I was little cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire watching a movie. It makes me feel safe and secure.
4. Storms evoke much the same imagery, be they snowstorms or thunderstorms. They provide the perfect setting for a nap or for just being lazy and contemplative. They seem to lock me inside in both a physical and a mental sense, and I love that feeling (for short periods of time, of course). They make me sleepy, and I always sleep better when a storm is raging.
5. Books are a balm to my soul. They also possess the capability of riling it up, but either way, they pull me out of myself and my reality. They are my escape, but every time I come back, I seem to have more insight into myself and my reality, and it always seemingly happens without my sensing it. It’s like falling asleep and then suddenly awaking with the answer to your problem and no recollection of how it came to be; it just is, and you know it’s absolutely, fundamentally true.
6. Coffee and tea, while each serve their own seemingly contradictory purpose, both are peaceful to me. For me, one is indicative of a beginning while the other is indicative of an end. They bring me full circle. Their taste, their temperature, their effects–all of these things bring me peace. They both warm me from the inside out to the tips of my fingers and toes. It’s a lovely feeling. Incidentally, I take my coffee and my tea the same way–with milk and sugar. My roommate commented last night that I take them pale. I suppose this is true. I love the rich, sweet flavor of both. I will admit to adding more of both than most people do. Yes, I will take a bit of tea and coffee with my milk and sugar, thank you kindly.
7. While I do not initiate a lot of physical contact with people, I often find it very calming when it’s someone I know well. Be it fingers brushing through my hair, hands massaging my tense muscles, arms holding me or a caress of my cheek, I find myself soothed. The physical touch seems to anchor me. This is particularly helpful when I am in the throes of an anxiety or panic attack or when I am having difficulty sleeping. Massages and lying on a pillow in someone’s lap with their fingers running through my hair have proven to be the only methods with a virtually 100% effectiveness rate in getting me to sleep.
What about you? What do you find to be particularly comforting or soothing?
More quick takes can be found here.
Alice Thursday
17 Thursday Sep 2009
Posted in 1000 Words, Alice!
Someone whose name rhymes with men (I wrote pen, but then I realized that my actual pronunciation of the word does not rhyme with her name but rather with an alcoholic beverage) aggressively suggested that I do an Alice Photo Thursday post every week. I ran the idea past my sister, and she agreed, because she’s a mother and mothers like people gushing over their progeny. It’s a fact. It’s like instant endearment to mothers. So, here you go:
“What’s that? I’m cute, you say? I rule the roost, you say? I’m fabulous, you say?”
Apparently taken just a few moments after the previous photo. I guess she wasn’t complimented to her liking. I think it looks like she’s either dancing in rapture or conducting a really awful orchestra.
“Check out my paunch! It pooches!”
This is a picture from her first bath. I think she looks like a miniature version of my sister right here. The other photographs would have required a modesty bar or blurring, but Alice kindly did the job for me in this one.
“I am wearing a romper. My Aunt Lindsay had to look up what a romper is, because she didn’t know what it is and got tired of pretending like she did when my mama and her roommate said I was wearing a romper. My Aunt Lindsay also thinks I look like a Mama Clone right here, and she is duly weirded out by seeing a baby version of her older sister.”
“Duck, duck, who? Duck, duck, me! Duck you, too! Ha ha, I quack myself up.”
Then I’m Amputating My Pinkies
16 Wednesday Sep 2009
Posted in Friends
I love my roommate. She once had a migraine, and I dropped the work that I was doing and went out late at night to walk over a mile to her apartment to take care of her. Should she ever need an organ, I would gladly and without hesitation proffer one of my own. However, she frequently makes me want to hit her with a ladle. When I say frequently, I mean every day. When I say every day, I mean every night. Right before she goes to bed.
This is what my evenings with my roommate are like, every single evening:
I’m not kidding. Every night. Don’t get me wrong, I have my own obsessive-compulsive tendencies. In fact, she and I even share a few (like checking our alarm clocks approximately eight times before we go to bed). This, though, is ridiculous. I can drag her into the kitchen, show her the oven, get her to admit that everything is turned off and then she will still check it later or ask me to check it. I can understand an alarm clock getting turned off. Power outages happen. Sometimes cords are accidentally unplugged. If you use a cell phone, maybe your phone accidentally died or you somehow turned it off. To my knowledge, ovens cannot spontaneously turn on by themselves. I mean, I can’t say for sure with new ovens; for all I know, they have sensitive touch pads that could be triggered by heavy breathing. Our oven, on the other hand? It has dials, and not only that, but it has dials that you have to push in order to turn them.
Tonight, before she went to bed, she asked me if I would check the oven. I sighed, knowing that she had just checked the oven. I flippantly said sure, knowing full well that I had no intention of checking the oven. I learned that it’s better to humor her so that she can sleep without fear that our apartment is going to blow up whilst we slumber. Usually, that’s enough to get her to drop it, but tonight she seemed to either finally recognize that I had no intention of checking the frigging oven or she was particularly concerned about the oven that we didn’t use this evening because we never ate dinner (ok, scratch that, we did use the stove to boil water for tea). She asked, “Do you promise to check it?” Now, this is what caught me, because I don’t make promises unless I can keep them. I don’t like breaking promises, ever. I won’t if I can help it, and I think she bloody knows it. I squirmed a bit, pouted and petulantly said, “I don’t want to.” She just got closer to me and asked me again. Again, I said I don’t want to. Then she got that look on her face that she gets when she’s onto something, and she pulled out the p-word and looked mildly pathetic for a few seconds. I’m starting to feel bad, and I’m about to crack, and she knows it. She knows it. I’m reasoning with myself that I could’ve checked the oven five times in the time we’ve been arguing over me checking the oven, and right as I sort of begin promising, she stops me and holds out her pinky finger to me.
I sort of sputter and minutely shake my head, because, no, just no. She steps even closer to me with her finger held out and says, “Pinky swear.” And I begin glaring at her, because that is unfair, and she knows it. I also vaguely remember thinking that I should just snap and bite her finger to show her what I really think about her manipulative pinky swearing ways, but I settle for the glaring. She goes on and on about how sacred and unbreakable a pinky swear is, as if I don’t already know that.
You see, ever since I was a wee little thing, I’ve held a pinky swear as binding and above all forms of promises. I always did it with my dad, and he always thought it was funny and cute, but it’s one of those things that’s stuck with me throughout the years. Some people need to put their hand on a Bible or spill blood when they make a promise or a vow, but me? For me, it’s wrapping my pinky around someone else’s. That’s it for me. The ultimate. Not many people know that, but Jessica does.
And she pulled out the pinky swear over an oven. I mean, I guess that says something about just how important this silly request is to her, but it’s hard to take that seriously when she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and looking all smug and in severe need of a ladle beating or maybe a spraying from the spray bottle we use on the cats when they’re bad. But I did it. I sighed when I realized her pinky was getting in dangerously close proximity to my nose and I held out my pinky and made the stupid promise.
Now I’m going to go turn the oven on so that in five minutes I can feel justified in checking it to make sure it’s off.
Seven Quick Takes: The Guilt & Resolution Edition
11 Friday Sep 2009
Posted in Seven Quick Takes
This is new. Nearly everyone I read does it or something similar to it, so I thought I’d join in on the fun.
1. My brother has called me multiple times, and I haven’t returned any of his calls yet. I actually heard my phone ring yesterday evening when he called, and I answered. I was very exhausted, and I only had about fifteen minutes of downtime, so we only got to speak for about two minutes. When my brother uses his sweet, non-macho “I’m-a-man-hear-me-roar–meow!” voice to tell you how much he misses you and he tells you to feel free to call anytime, you’ve been incommunicado for a while. I’ve been a bad baby sister. Tomorrow I will call him.
2. My sister’s been going through a particularly rough time. Her dog Bruno was hit by a truck a couple of days ago, and he died in her arms. I never met him, but he meant an awful lot to my sister and her husband. My sister loved him immensely, and the rest of my family was rather attached to him as well. She blames herself. She shouldn’t, but she does. I spoke with her the evening it happened, and hearing her broke my heart. I had a lot of work to do this week in preparation for a meeting I had today that lasted several hours, so I never really got a chance to check back up on her. She emailed me this morning, and it just reminded me that I failed to check in on her at a time when she really needs me to. She’s carrying quite a cross already. She devotes all her time and energy to Alice and ignores herself, and right now she needs someone to focus on her since she doesn’t have that luxury. I’ve been a bad baby sister. Tomorrow I will email her back and call her.
3. My father and I used to talk at least once a week–you know, back when I used to actually have time for such things. We talk about once every two weeks now, and we never talk for long. I think twice this summer we spoke for about half an hour. He’s told me that he understands. He pays for my cell phone bill, so he sees just how infrequently I actually use my phone. When we do talk, it’s usually him calling me. When he calls, he nearly always apologizes and says he knows I’m probably busy but he just missed me and needed a Lindsay fix. It’s always then that I realize how long it’s been since we’ve really spoken, and I feel guilty. I never noticed. I’ve been a bad daughter. Tomorrow I will call my dad and find out what’s new in his life, because I miss him and I need a Joey fix.
4. I’ve been insanely stressed over my thesis and the amount of work I have yet to do. I keep getting frantic over everything, and my other commitments and my health problems seem to only exacerbate my stress. I’m constantly stressed and tired, and I’m always finding a reason to push everything else aside. The floor in the living room and eating area of our apartment is disgusting. Jessica and I have both expressed our displeasure with having to look at it. I keep telling myself I’m going to vacuum the floor. I haven’t. I’ve been a bad roommate. This weekend I will vacuum the floor.
5. I’ve been focusing on my thesis and everything else going on in my life that I’ve majorly neglected my faith life. I was never the most prayerful or pious person, but I always prayed daily. I always prayed at every meal and right before bed if nothing else. I’ve gotten to the point of just feeling so busy all the time that even taking twenty seconds to pray before eating seems to take up time I don’t have even though I do. I’m lucky if I manage to pray a few times a week outside of Mass. I haven’t even been to Confession since Holy Week. I’ve been a bad Catholic. Tomorrow I am going to start praying at meals and bedtime again. Then I am going to see about slowly increasing my prayer time and returning to writing in my prayer journal. Next week, I am going to go to Confession. In a few months when I have the funds to do so, I am going to buy a book containing the Liturgy of the Hours (suggestions for beginners?) to try to improve my spiritual life.
6. My health hasn’t been great for some months now. I’ve been chronically tired and suffer from nearly chronic exhaustion and body aches. I’ve felt like I’ve had the flu. A few weeks ago I found out that I have fibromyalgia. I’ve done a little reading (very little) on it and methods of alleviation that have been successful for others, but I haven’t done much on my own, my excuse always being that I just need to focus on my thesis and that I’ll focus on this when it’s done. I know dealing with it will overwhelm me more, but all I’ve really done is take advantage of good days by pushing myself and starting every morning with either coffee or Irish Breakfast tea and vitamins and Ibuprofen. I take Excedrin during the day. I’ve found that it helps, but I also know that napping helps, but I’ve been denying myself a nap because of everything I have to do. I’ve also been getting less sleep lately–staying up later and waking up earlier to do work. I’ve been a bad caretaker of myself. I’m going to try to make more of an effort to listen to my body’s needs and adhere to them.
7. I’ve been blogging for three and a half years. I think this will make my 270th post. Jen had her two-year blogging anniversary on 21 August. At the time, she had 820 posts. I do not post often enough, and when I do post, it’s usually mindless and boring. There are people like me who have a total of approximately five readers who actually comment, and those five people only do so out of obligation rather than actual interest. Then you have people like Jen who actually have cute posts, and even if she didn’t, she’s a gigantic ball of sunshine that makes you keep coming back for more. She’s sort of like a lollipop version of heroin. I’m a bad blogger. I will start trying to post more, and I will try to post meaningful and interesting things. However, I am boring, so feel free to leave topics that you’d like me to write about, because otherwise you will get my normal drivel, and no one wants that.
You can read more here at a different Jen’s.
Gratuitous Alice Photos
08 Tuesday Sep 2009
Posted in 1000 Words, Alice!
Because everyone keeps asking for more pictures, and by everyone, I mean Jen does. She kindly reminded me that newborns change quite a bit in a very quick amount of time, and since I’ve never really been around babies and haven’t paid particularly close attention to the growth patterns of all the online babies all y’all seem to have, I was somewhat unaware of this fact. So, I am posting several more Alice photos that my sister has emailed to me over the past two weeks and that I have stolen off her Facebook wall. I cannot be held responsible for overfilling anyone’s weekly cuteness quota. If you have a heart attack, blame my sister and her husband. They’re responsible for this.
The roly-poly and her father. I feel as if this is a much sweeter picture if you imagine they’re watching Gilmore Girls.
I’m not sure whether the matching factor of this picture makes it sweet or creepy, so I’m going with both. It’s like my brother-in-law holding himself as an infant.
Baby rapper, the MySpace photo.
Baby Godfather subtly giving you the finger. Alice will make you an offer you cannot refuse. (Seriously, this child’s angry face is far more frightening than my own. It’s ridiculous. She’ll have to teach me how she does it.)
My Ally-Angel looking every bit the angel.
This picture makes my heart swell to about eight times its normal size. The headband! The dress! The subtle little monkey feet! (Her mama must be gushing with pride over the monkey feet.) The teeny tiny cuteness!
Not As Eazzzzzzzzzzy As You Think
08 Tuesday Sep 2009
Posted in Sleepy-Tired!
(Remember that whole saga I started about how Jessica and I met and became friends? You’re probably wondering if I even do, and I actually do, but I sort of burned out on it. I will get back to it shortly, though. I just have other things I’d like to write about first. If this is not ok, you are welcome to comment and I will proceed to respectfully and politely ignore you.)
I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been suffering from sleep problems. Well, if we’re being honest, I’ve had some form of sleep issue since I was quite young; I had horrible nightmares as a child (which continue to this day) and I used to sleepwalk (still occasionally do), but in terms of when the insomnia kicked in? I don’t really know. My own memory on it is somewhat fuzzy, but I recall it becoming full-blown insomnia sometime in January or February my sophomore year of high school. I spoke to my father about this a week or two ago, and he seems to remember it starting to present quite some time before that; he seems to think it was a year or two before my initial memory. Being that my father works nights and is therefore highly attuned to my sleep habits when we’re both home (on my vacations, his vacations and on the weekends when he doesn’t work), I would imagine he is more accurate. Actually, now that I think of it, I can recall my now infamous middle-of-the-night romps around the house that often end up in his bedroom to talk or watch television or a movie to keep me occupied until I find myself able to sleep occurring years before my being blindsided by insomnia. (Having a nocturnal parent is quite the perk when you have sleep issues.)
Still, all of that had been manageable (which is not to say pleasant), usually with the aid of a back rub and/or some sort of sedative. As I said, it wasn’t really until the spring semester of my sophomore year of high school that things became particularly difficult for me. I have dealt with this for six years straight without much of a reprieve. It wasn’t even until the past year that I found a doctor who didn’t just push the issue aside as being a side effect of stress. In fact, this doctor was the first one who finally realized that it’s obviously not just stress if it effects me year-round, even during breaks. After assessing my sleep patterns, the doctor chuckled and told me that it’s a miracle that I have yet to murder someone. I believe he also suggested that I be canonized. (HA.) I immediately liked that doctor, because he appreciated what I’m going through and for once actually understood as well as anyone who hasn’t experienced this can.
Dealing with doctors on this particular issue has been trying, to say the least. I get many assumptions thrown at me as well as many suggestions, and while I understand that would be the first step, it can become a rather large annoyance. Most people do not understand how awful insomnia gets, though most people have at some point in time had a glimpse into what it can be like. Those glimpses are always short-lived phases. They’re temporary. They’re uncomfortable, they’re awful, but above all, they’re manageable. You see, I have to fight the urge to laugh whenever someone tries to be helpful and suggest a remedy. I could spend hours, paragraphs, even pages and books trying to convey the sheer desperation that accompanies chronic and pervasive insomnia. Insomnia presents itself differently for everyone, but the few people I’ve met who have experienced what I have all experience that same crazed desperation that I’m so familiar with. You don’t go through that and not try anything humanly possible. You’ll even go to ridiculous lengths to test out ridiculous theories that have virtually no chance of actually working. I’m quite serious. I’ve read all the literature, and a lot of what I’ve read honestly scares the hell out of me, because I know so much of it is true. I’ve faced it, and I know I’m lucky because my severe case could actually be worse. I handle it well, far better than most. If I am blessed in any way in this horrible curse, that’s how. I’ve read virtually everything, I’ve tried virtually everything. That’s what you do when you’re desperate. Anyone who has any understanding of insomnia and considers how long I’ve been plagued by it would probably feel foolish in asking me if I have tried this or that. The few people I’ve known haven’t. They sort of just smirk and then we commiserate over how often we get that. As I said, for most of us, our first inclination is to laugh. I suppose the less kind individuals would want to say something rude or snarky, and that’s seemingly valid as well. I know I’ve certainly thought about it from time to time.
I’ve found various coping mechanisms over the past six years, and I’ve also found that all of them are always temporary. One very important thing that I’ve learned, though, is that what works for a lot of people often doesn’t seem to work for me. For instance, one of the cardinal rules anyone will tell you when you suffer from insomnia or sleep difficulties is no napping. Napping is simply not allowed. You’ll be tempted to, but it only ends up hurting you in the long run. This is not true for me. I’ve spent years fighting my urge to nap because I am told not to, because it will only impede my long-term goal of having a relatively normal sleep life. I’ve kept sleep journals before, and I’ve logged my fatigue and rated it, and I’ve compared when I’ve skipped napping and just trudged forward to bedtime to when I’ve given in to temptation and just napped and how that affected my overall sleep quantity.
Here’s the thing. When my fatigue gets to a nearly unmanageable level, but where I know my body can sleep if I let it? Well, that window only lasts for a short period of time, and then I’ll have a second wind (figuratively–by that point in time, I’m more on my fifth or sixth of the day), and sleeping later actually becomes more difficult for me. When I do give in and nap, I wake up fairly refreshed (2 hours seems to be the magic number), and I can get work done, but for some reason, it also makes it easier for me to fall asleep later. Usually. This is not always true, but it usually is. Sometimes I end up going to sleep a bit later, but I’ll actually sleep longer and with fewer wake-ups. So, ironically enough, napping actually earns me more sleep. I’m definitely a better napper than a sleeper.
I, however, have difficulty accepting this. Because everyone else would tell me that what I’m doing is wrong and counterproductive. I have watched my sleeping habits, and I know that for me this seems to work, but it seems yet another reminder of how odd I am. Not only can I not manage a normal body process like most human beings, but one of the more successful methods for me to handle the situation is by directly defying one of the cardinal rules. I am a double freak of nature. And so, despite knowing that this works better for me (which is not to say that it fixes anything at all–I still don’t get much sleep, but it can make a difference of a couple of hours over the course of a week), I still try to fight off the exhaustion and my desire to nap.
Yesterday evening at 6 I became very fatigued, so fatigued that I finally decided that I did not want to stay awake another few hours before sleeping, and I knew that if I managed to stay awake until 8 and went to bed, I’d sleep for about three or four hours and then I’d be up for the day. I knew that if I managed to stay awake until 9, I would be hit with another wind of energy and be unable to go to sleep. However, if I took a nap until 8, I would still be just exhausted enough to make it through the night and be able to fall asleep again by 12 or 1. You see, these are the sort of battles I have to deal with on a daily, nearly hourly basis. I know mothers with infants have similar struggles, but it’s my understanding that it’s more of an issue of when will it happen rather than an issue of will it happen. Sometimes it doesn’t happen, but I know enough to know what gives me the highest likelihood of having an open window. I’m always calculating. I gave in, though feeling guilty (why, I still don’t know), and napped at 6 and woke up at 8. I managed to get to bed again between 12 and 1, and I actually managed seven hours of sleep. So, all in all, I got nine hours. That is hitting the sleep lottery for me. I took a well-calculated risk, and I came out on top, and ultimately, that’s what my life with insomnia is about. I just need to continue trying the things that seem to work best for me and leave the guilt at the door.
