Tag Archives: sleep

There must be more to this

I really would like to be able to switch off for a bit: to not constantly worry about things that teeter on the brink of being in my control in the slightest sense. But I can’t.

In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter, but then in the grand scheme of things nothing matters. In fact it was decided with a colleague on the walk to work this morning that everything does in fact tie itself up nicely at the end like a good film or TV show.

Not necessarily when you die, of course, but in hundreds of thousands – or millions, or billions – of years when everyone and everything there is ceases to be on this earth. If we’ve gone beyond this planet? Fine, wait a bit longer until the entire universe collapses in on itself and everything becomes nothing, and nothing becomes everything.

Then all your loose ends will be tied up. So nothing matters, or something.

Still, it doesn’t stop my brain from worrying. It doesn’t stop me from always being switched on; from being unable to properly relax at any point. Things are always there at the back of my mind, eating away and pissing me off however they can.

And you have to stop and think: why do we do this? A job I like does this to me, so I wonder what I job I hated would do. We, as people, in the majority, aren’t made to work like this every day – we aren’t made to serve, to repeat tasks, to be bored, to just get on with functioning in a glorified slave-driven economy until we expire. That’s just not what people are about.

We should all be running around fields or some such shit, chasing balls and shitting in ditches and… oh, wait, I’ve gone and got people mixed up with dogs. My mistake.

As you were.

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Migraine, your grain, everybody’s grain

Is there anything worse than that time – that brief part of the night – when you’re woken up by something and you can’t get back to sleep? No matter what you try, you just can’t nod off again, and whatever it is that woke you up becomes worse than Hitler crossed with Pol Pot (on acid, etc).

There’s been times when it was a party somewhere, where the BOOM BOOM BOOM has made me want to go and get my hammer to do some BOOM BOOM BOOMing of my own. Fortunately I haven’t yet done that. At least not officially. They’ll never find the bodies, whatever the case.

There’s been times when it was some snoring idiot next to me, a surprising amount of times of the female persuasion. You share rooms with people and you expect some snoring from the BWAAY LADS, because they’re foul and loud. You don’t expect it from delicate, pure and beautiful women. Who actually reveal themselves to be so bad you have to put earplugs in. No lie.

The hammer stayed put then, too. Somehow.

But last night it was an altogether different cause, and one that made the hour or so I was awake in the middle of the night the worst hour or so I’ve spent awake in a long time. And it has a fair bit of competition, let’s be honest – waking hours aren’t the most fun of things, after all.

It was a second occurrence of something that only happened  for the first time a few months ago – a migraine so painful it actually woke me up and had me rolling about in my bed in absolute agony for what felt like forever.

Seriously, after going through that a second time I am now confident no forms of torture would actually work on me. Waterboarding? Psh. Electrocuted balls? You ain’t getting shit out of me. Chinese burns? Well, actually, now I think of it, I do know where the plans are stored…

Anyway, I’m going to bed now, and if my sleep is interrupted by something that doesn’t allow me to get back to sleep again I am liable to visit my toolbox (not a euphemism) and get my hammer (also not a euphemism). I’m on the edge, and I just want a kip. And not to have to spend a waking hour in what is clearly worse than hell and definitely not just a bit of a bad headache that lasts a while.


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And here we begin the first proper day of my time off – the first time in a long, long time I’ve had time off with nothing coming up: no work to do, no trip 12 hours after you get back from another country, no freelance pending, no stress, nothing to think about. There’s food in the kitchen (rice, mainly) and games to be played. There’s sleep to be had and a dressing gown (with many coffee and food stains on it) to be worn all day every day.

I am aware I am not an EMT, a stockbroker, a police officer, a shop worker, a vet, a bounty hunter, a space cowboy, a professional homosexual impersonator, a dog whisperer, a woman whisperer, a marmoset whisperer, a Quetzalcoatl whisperer or any other job that actually matters. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired out by it – mentally and physically.

So yeah, now the week of sitting, with a couple of parties, begins. If you get in touch with me, expect responses constantly mentioning that I’m in my pants. If you follow me on Twitter (@PlayMagIan), expect me to be tweeting a lot more, usually about how I’m in my pants. If you’re on my friends lists on PS3 and 360, expect to see me on there a lot more probably replaying Skyrim (also: in my pants).

Now is my time to shine – now is my time to show the world what I am really, truly good at: not doing anything. It’s what I was made to do, and one day I will find a way to be comfortable, or make a living, doing just that. YUSS.

(Thus concludes the batch of blogs I’ve written on the train. They will return to their normal velocity (and lack of quality) as of tomorrow. We’re almost in the home straight now)

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Not being able to sleep: the definitive review (7/10)

The topic for this particular DEFINITIVE REVIEW was one I came up with a couple of weeks ago, when I was in the midst of being completely unable to sleep more than a couple of hours a night. A combination of factors had lead to this, but generally speaking I hadn’t been sleeping well for months by that point.

Thing is, I’ve started running about on the spot in my room in front of my TV now (“exercising”) and it’s helped a fair bit. I can actually snooze a tad better. Anyway, take this as a retro DEFINITIVE REVIEW.

Not being able to sleep is the most brilliantist thing ever, because it means you can be awake for longer and everybody knows that when you’re awake it’s the best thing ever, especially when one of the reasons you can’t sleep is because your brain thinks of too much Bad Shit when you’re awake.

God, being awake is brilliant.

It’s also brilliant because it puts you in a mood – you know how great they are!!!!!! And when you’re in a mood you get cranky and snappy with people who don’t really deserve it (unless they do, but that’s a whole other matter). This makes for a cycle of unreasonable anger, followed by snippy remarks, followed by a feeling of guilt at being such a cock, followed by feeling bad, followed by unreasonable anger… etc.

But hey, at least you can sleep it all off and feel better in the morn… oh. No. Yeah. That thing.

Like I said though, I’m back on the Shut-Eye Chariot of Dreamsville McSnoresnore now, so this is all a bit trite. Ho hum.


8 of 14 catch up entries to go.

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A short love-in for pyjama bottoms

I cannot believe I went for so long without pyjama bottoms. I used to wear them as a child, but then opted for the simpler, quicker choice of simply sleeping in my pants. I even had a period of (MENTAL IMAGE ALERT) sleeping wang-loose through the long, lonely nights.

But at some point around five years or so ago, for some reason I genuinely don’t remember, I bought me some PJ bottoms. Turns out they make everything right with the world – comfortable and casual, they show off your attitude of “yeah, I’m not in bed, but I’m wearing them. Wanna fight about it?”

Boxers are somewhat restrictive towards leg movement, and seeing as I’m well known for my awesome spin-kicks while I’m asleep, I obviously can’t like with this kind of restrictive fabric around my thighs. No such troubles with the loose and free world of pyjama bottoms.

In fact, I’m tempted to become a hippie so I have an excuse to wear PJs all the time. I can pretend they’re made from hemp and an eighty year old woman called Moon Mooning Moonson knitted them with organic knitting needles (made from hemp). Then I can wear pyjama bottoms all the time, and the world will be better for me.

Three points to whoever guesses what item of clothing I’ve just put on.

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Daytime sleeping, or: wasting time

Even though I’ve been quite knackered for the last couple of days, I still haven’t seen fit to do a daytime or early sleep. See, I’m very much the kind of person who wants to maintain as much free time as possible, even if I am only going to waste it, so going to sleep early, or having a nap or whatever, just seems like… well, wasting it.

But in a different, worse-wasting kind of way. Definitely makes sense.

Like today – we finish work at 1pm on Fridays, and for once I came straight home. I have now been sat here since about two, watching things, playing games, whatever – feeling absolutely knackered. To the point where I’ve nodded off a couple of times, though only for a minute or two.

Yet in spite of having a totally free afternoon in which to catch up on some well-needed sleep, I have opted to not go to bed. My brain tells me “do things! Don’t waste your own time!” which I can get on board with. But yeah, it’s not like the things I do are of any value or relevance.

Also, because I’m still knackered now, my writing skill – or at least my ability to concentrate on a point I’m making – is focked. Hence getting vague nonsense like this and the previous entry. The entry before that was just a drunken one.

I must be losing readers here, this has been a shower of shite for the last few days. AH WELL, 500-odd blogs will do that to someone who has as little to say as I do.

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Planes, trains, automobiles, John Candy, sleep.

I used to be brilliant at falling asleep everywhere. I remember, ish, a time when I was a tiny wee child (that’s as in ‘tiny and covered in wee’) – we were at some holiday camp thing in a loud family club. I was tired and reacting in the way I still do when I get tired, which is by being a massive twat about it.

I decided I would crawl under the chair I was sat on and curl up into a ball – remember this was in a family club, where it was loud music, idiotic talking people, dancing, banging (not like that), whatever else. But I still managed to fall asleep.

I always used to be able to fall asleep wherever I needed to. Planes, trains, automobiles, John Candy – wherever. But these days it just isn’t the same. I can sleep if I’m on the verge of dying, as evidenced when flying back from New York in January, and I can sleep if I’m literally so tired I pass out.

But generally speaking I can’t do it. It means I end up being awake for far, far longer than I have any need to be. Trains are uncomfortable and move too much, cars make me feel sick if I close my eyes too long, planes are too fear-inducing for me to take my eyes off them (as well as uncomfortable and lacking room)… I just can’t do it.

I might try sleeping on a moped, actually. That’ll probably (definitely) work.

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No… sleep… til something! der der

I have switched to Tiny Laptop, so no picture for yooou.

I’m writing this while really bloody tired, so it may seem a bit odd with what I’m going to complain about. See, I haven’t been sleeping very well recently – interrupted snoozings as a result of my brain being an idiot and waking me up, as well as new, loud, stupid, godIhopetheydie, housemates. It all means I’ve not got as much shut-eye as I’d want, and it’s left me in a bit of a spaced-out/cranky mood for the last couple of weeks.

The reason it’s so weird is because I used to be able to sleep anywhere, at any time, in any state. When I was a kid I climbed under a chair in a family entertainment club (what the hell are you supposed to call them? ‘A thing like Butlins, but not branded and cheaper’ will have to do). Loud music, revellers and drunken adults mean nothing, as I was tired. So I slept.

I used to sleep for long, long times. During my student heydays we were talking 12 hours minimum most nights of the week, and some legendary snore-fests clocked up about 16 hours. Well what else was I going to do? Study?

But now it doesn’t seem as easy any more. My brain won’t just shut off and let me sleep. These days the concerns and worries are all too real and a bit too close for my liking, and it all serves to make me lose ten minutes here, ten minutes there.

Fuck’s sake, I just want an old-fashioned 14-hour shut-eye. Is that too much to ask?

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Schleepy bear

I’m not sure which one I dislike more – being super tired or being super anything else. Oh, no, wait – I’ve figured it out straight away. I hate being super tired more than almost any other feeling, inkling, emotion, hunger pang or whatever else my body can do to me. I hate it for many reasons, but I do indeed hate it.

I hate the heaviness of your eyelids – how they lie in wait for you to blink before launching Operation Don’topen. I hate how you get a headache, or how bright light becomes more of a bastard than normal. I hate how not everyone in the world feels the same as you, so you know they’re not talking to you on a level playing field. I hate how it makes your brain simply stop… working, that’s the one. And most of all I hate being really tired because that tends to mean I’m not in bed, attempting to sleep.

I do actually like being super tired for a couple of reasons, surprising as that may be with all the hate I’ve been throwing atcha. See, for one, being so tired it feels like your head is about to just fall off means that you’re guaranteed to at least fall asleep quickly. With my brain being as much of a thinking twat as it is, this is a very good thing.

Secondly, I feel kind of comfortable when I’m tired. I’m cranky, sure, but I also lose a great deal of inhibitions and can end up saying what I actually think for once*. Also it’s like a mind-blanket, keeping you feeling strangely warm and dream-like. That’s a comfort you don’t get many – or any – other places.

I literally just nodded off halfway through that sentence.

*No idea why I said ‘for once’ there, as I tend to say what I think.

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My week off work

Can anyone tell me what good use of a week off work is? Or at least what is considered a good, well-spent week off work? Because it would appear I don’t know. I decided it would be a good idea to visit my ladychum in Manchester and desecrate her flat for the week: good idea. That’s where they end.

In this week where I could be productive, fun, catch up on sleep and generally sort myself out a bit I have done nothing of the above. I’m surprised I even managed to arrive in Manchester without falling into a coma or something.

Instead of doing things I should be doing, exercising my brain or anything of the sort, I have spent the last couple of days – for example – finding old games to install on my netbook. I have also spent a lot of this time locating newer games that can successfully be tweaked enough to run on the very same netbook. Have I even played any of these games yet? Oh god no. You have to remember it’s the chase that’s the exciting part. After that it just gets boring. It’s the sitting, trawling through reams of half-literate nonsense all over the interspaz that gets me excited about the possibilities of these things. Then you finally load up a functioning version of Daggerfall and realise it’s slow, clunky and resoundingly old. Not at all like you remember it.

I haven’t been fun, though this is pretty much par for the course when it comes to post-2006-Leeds Ian, which was pretty much the cut-off point for me bothering to go out very much anymore. So surely with a lack of pubbing and drinking I have managed to catch up with some sleep? No. Awake at about half nine every morning, up at about half ten after staring at the walls for an hour. In a week where I have had no responsibilities whatsoever I have failed to even do the thing that is most important to me: to sleep.

Many would consider this a wasted week, but then many insist on doing things like going outside, talking to people and whatever else they feel is “normal”, whatever that is. I actually consider it a good week off.

Anyway, I have to go see if Oldblivion makes Oblivion playable on this tiny thing.


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