The Sleepy Games

My sleep disorder decided to erupt in the past week–this is the worst it’s been in years. So, I decided to take it easy this weekend. Aside from a couples “Stock the Bar” shower and hanging with an old friend, I’ve mostly been running, reading, sleeping or doing some writing that I was too tired to do during the week.

Justin has finally met the Sleep-Deprived Stephie that I’ve warned him about since we first met, and I have to say, he handled it like a champ. Even though sleep deprivation makes me irritable, irrational, anxious, and basically mentally deficient, I’m trying very hard to warn him about my mood swings as they come and to educate him (and basically remind myself) about what is actually happening to me.

Chronic Sleep Deprivation is an invisible disability–meaning, people don’t understand it because they can’t see it, so they just think you’re being a crybaby or an asshole or an idiot in general. There are plenty of people from my past who were affected by it who, to this day, don’t realize that sleep deprivation is why I acted that way. My mom still rolls her eyes when I say that I’m tired. Rachael still jokes about the anxiety attacks I used to have, and doesn’t understand how offensive it is. I can’t even imagine the things my ex-boyfriend says about me.

I’m trying very hard to approach it with awareness this time around, so that Justin doesn’t become one of those people. I’m also apologizing for it every 10 seconds, which I realize is totally annoying, but there are people I never got to explain and apologize to, like my dad, and I never want to do that again.

One good thing about this weekend is that I’ve read almost the entire Hunger Games trilogy, and it’s AWESOME! I just finished running 5 miles, so I plan on doing nothing but reading the last book for the rest of the evening.

 

 

A Sequence In Time Repeated

“Many things–such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly–are done worst when we try hardest to do them.”

-C. S. Lewis

Today marks one year since I’ve taken a sleeping pill, or at least a prescription one anyway. I still take melatonin and the occasional Benadryl, but no Ativan and more importantly, no Ambien. For someone like me, this is huge.

I was addicted to Ambien for over 5 years. It started right around the time I went through an awful break-up, so it immediately became an escape for me. I was was prescribed Ambien because I was diagnosed with chronic insomnia, but I still couldn’t sleep because I was treating a condition that I didn’t have. What I really had was a little-known condition called Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. That means Ambien doesn’t affect me the same way it affects other people. I usually stayed awake for a few hours after taking it.

All Hands On Roof

Jane told me I needed to update this blog. Hay Jane! I haven’t updated because I’m still transferring entries (64 months down, 13 to go!), and quite frankly, I am sick of myself.

A HUGE milestone happened, though – three months without prescription sleeping pills! I even lowered my melatonin dose from 5mg to 3mg and it hasn’t been a problem. I go to bed around 11 almost every night, sometimes even earlier. Sleeping is a problem I have dealt with my entire life, and now that it’s practically solved, I’m not sure how I should be reacting to this. I will say that initially, a week without sleeping pills seemed more impossible than quitting smoking. I’m extremely proud of myself.

HOWEVER, I’ve been watching The Walking Dead and woof; I need to put that on hold until I’m no longer sleeping in a huge dark basement. I should stick to the Vampire Diaries and Hellcats that I’m used to. Bleeuugh. It’s less the zombies and more the suspense that bugs me; I’m half bored (because obviously the guy will escape everything) and half anxious. I know I’m supposed to like this show because zombies are so in, but I’ve been there done that girlfriends.

I like how I’m more afraid of zombies in the basement of the house where I grew up than I am of moving downtown, where someone totally got murdered at my front door last week. (I go in through the back and I don’t fight over girls/drugs in nightclubs at 3am; I should be safe.)

Justin and I are buying our fun shag rug this week and picking up carpet from his mom when we visit her over Thanksgiving. Then he gets to built me a dream closet, and then I’m ready to move in after Christmas! I’m so excited!

I’m still doing my food log and I’m definitely eating better. I’ve been doing my Insanity workouts, though not every day. It’s just getting to be too much, and after 3 months with minimal weight loss, I don’t really have the motivation that I used to to put my body through Insanity hell. I might do these once or twice a week in the future.

I need to get back into workouts that feel more like therapy, like running and weight lifting. The new Girl Talk album is out and that is pure running juice, so you can bet your ass that I’ll be pounding pavement as soon as I download it. And at some point I want to do P90X (the workouts AND the diet), but that sucker is 3 months long. Next year, for sure.

Other stuff has happened, too, but those are either my friends’ stories or work related, so it’s not my place to write about them. Overall, I’m happy at the moment which means I’m pretty boring.

Mustache Dreams

To dream that you have a mustache when you don’t really have one, signifies that you are hiding an aspect of yourself. You are putting on a disguise or showing a different aspect of your personality.

To dream that you shave off your mustache, denotes that you are revealing your true self. You no longer have to hide under some disguise or some shield. Alternatively, the dream means that you are trying to reestablish your reputation, by renouncing your previous activities.

If you are a woman and dream that you have a mustache, then it indicates that you are expressing your power through your words and your verbal expression.

In addition to the heavy, long-winded blogging I’ve been doing lately, I’ve also been speaking to a lot of customer service people, filling out suggestion/complaint forms, and requesting a new non-free therapist (which apparently I’m not allowed to do without serious drama, St. Louis Behavioral Medicine Institute? Ugh). In other words, I’ve been much more formidable than usual. Today, it’s starting to pay off.

Last night I dreamt I had this huge, thick, orange mustache and I kept trying to shave it – like The Peanut Butter Solution, except on a freakishly-large upper lip. I would probably call a Dream Dictionary “lame” except this is eerily correct and you know what? Dream Dictionaries usually are.

My dad used to have a lot of dreams, because he slept a lot I guess, and I would look up his stuff all the time to see how I could help him. For example, he dreamt about being kidnapped, which means that he felt trapped. Everything was pretty consistent with someone who had been bedridden for a year, so I trust the Dictionary these days.

Also, anybody remember the Crawling Spider? (God, I used to be a spaz.)

Riding the Righteous Bummer*

I’ve been seriously depressed this week, and I’m trying very hard to keep track of the parts that feel like mourning, like stress, like sleeplessness, etc. There are some waves that are overwhelming and they aren’t specifically about him. To me, that means depression, and that means I need more sunshine, sleep, exercise and Vitamin B.

It is so important to understand your bad moods and negative emotions. Once you know what’s wrong, you’re halfway back to happy even if you don’t know how to fix it. It’s also important for the sake of your loved ones. I try to be aware of when I’m tired or upset at someone else so I don’t take it out on my mom. I ALWAYS warn Justin when I’m PMSing, though I think he found an iPhone app that sends him an alert.

10-15 years ago, when my “insomnia” was uncontrollable, I was terrible to be around. I would cry at the drop of a hat. I was full of anxiety. Road rage to the max. Everyone annoyed me. When something small but stressful happened, like losing my car keys, I would explode. It truly felt like my world was ending.

I didn’t realize at the time that I was simply sleep deprived – to a point that was life threatening. I knew that I lacked sleep but I didn’t realize the magnitude of how important it was. I mistook being tired for so many other emotions, and I was totally lost in anxiety and anger that, in a way, didn’t exist.

Last year, I went through this phase were I was really angry with people from my past like Rachael and Brian – the people who were closest to me at that time. I was mad because I’ve made so many strides emotionally, but they still tend to talk to me like I’m fragile, like I’m going to explode or collapse into tears at any second. I used to think this was condescending, that they underestimated me.

But you know what? That’s exactly who I was back them. I’ve started to understand that it’s my fault that they treat me that way. And since we’re not really friends anymore, it’s okay. The people I’m still friends with from then, like Liz and Ty, they know. Liz and I tell each other, “I’m so proud of you,” all the time. I love that.

Justin said that when he and my dad had a long talk last month, my dad said that I changed so much in the last 10 years and he was so proud of me. That made me cry a lot. But it was okay, because I knew why I was crying.

But this? This heavy, constant Eeyore cloud that’s been following me all week? That’s depression, sister, and not the chemical kind that I can’t control. It’s simply my body telling me I need TLC. Sunshine, exercise, Vitamin B and sleep.

You are in charge of your own happiness. Once you realize that, it’s always within reach. Never, ever forget that. (And, stay positive.)

*via my hero-since-always, Lynda Barry

Oh My My, Oh Hell Yes, I’ve Got A Case Of DSPS

A while ago, Ra was hanging out with this guy who totally creeped me out. I used to call her and lecture her about why she needed to stay away from him. Point #215: this guy has been to Iraq five times. I wanted to tell her that he probably has raging Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD.

But what came out, in a horrified “mom-voice” shriek with a dash of Missouri twang, was “Raaaa! He could have PSDS!!” Say it out loud. You will probably giggle as much as she did. It just sounds silly. Well…

I finally sucked it up and went to an actual Sleep Institute today, and guess what: I don’t have insomnia. I actually have something called Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. Yes, DSPS. It means my circadian rhythm (body clock) runs about five hours later than yours – like living with permanent jet lag. There are things I can do to keep it in check, but I have to be really disciplined about bedtimes, light therapy, melatonin, etc.

Apparently, the majority of DSPS cases are initially misdiagnosed as chronic or onset insomnia. I actually studied DSPS in college and was fairly informed about all sleep disorders, but I had always assumed that DSPS was a temporary condition, or just a fancy nickname for jet lag itself. I didn’t believe the doctor at first but the DSPS Wikipedia page seriously reads like my diary. And while the diagnosis sucks, you’ve already heard me complain about trying virtually every insomnia treatment. At least now I know why none of them worked and I can go to bed a little more hopeful.

Ra is in town for the first time in years. This is the girl I honed all my bad habits with. She has a son now. Maybe between her baby and my new self-discipline, we can stay out of trouble this week. Either way, it’s bound to get interesting. I can’t wait to tell her I have DSPS.

The Science of Stephie

I’ve officially tried everything for my insomnia – pills, vitamins, herbs, a new mattress, auricular therepy, actual therapy, sleep hygiene, sleepy tea, staying up all night to reset my clock, waking up extra-early to run, sleep regression therapy, amino acids, cold medicine, etc…

… and nothing works. Absolutely nothing works. I have spent $500 of Visa’s money on stuff that doesn’t work this month alone. (Please don’t suggest things in the comment section – although I don’t know how to sleep, I am technically an expert at the topic and I am too tired to explain why none of your ideas will work for me.)

It’s seriously a miracle that I can compose a complete sentence with the amount of sleep I’ve gotten this week. I truly fear for my life when I have to drive a car. I can’t even talk to people. I can’t think. I can’t function. I’m on auto-pilot and it takes all my energy to not cry.

The only thing that works is chasing an Ativan or Ambien (or if it’s a bad day, both) with a few beers. So I guess my liver is fucked and I am too. It was nice knowing you (meaning, I don’t know when I will have the energy to hang out again. It probably won’t kill me til I’m fourty, or whenever things start getting good).

If I Sent A Secret …

… to Post Secret, it would probably be this:

However, I am too sleepy to go get stamps. Maybe next week. Don’t tell anyone it’s mine.

Insomnia makes me cancel plans at least once a week, sometimes more. I’ve used most of my sick days to recover from sleepless (non-partying) nights, and if I have trouble with a project it’s because I am too tired to think. I’ve treated my parents like shit over the years because I’m always cranky and exhausted. One time it took me four days to fall asleep and Pammy and Rachael woke me up and I threw shoes at their head. I have bags under my eyes that look like I’ve been punched and they will probably be there forever. I have a wrinkle or two. I crave carbs and sugar because I am tired and therefore it makes me fat on top of everything else. It used to make me anxious. It makes sad things sadder, and hard things harder. It makes me feel crazy and sometimes act that way too. It makes driving unsafe. It makes me want to sit at home alone, even though I’m guaranteed to be alone later while everyone else is asleep. I am halfway to sharing the same prescription list as Heath Ledger. It made me lose the love of my life. It took away opportunity after opportunity, and in my attempts to kill it, I’ve probably only killed parts of my liver. I just want it to go away. I want to be able to dream again.

I’ll try to write something happy tomorrow (today? It’s early/late), assuming I have the energy.

Anyways if I’ve ever ditched you or yelled at you or pissed you off because I was tired, I’m sorry.

Champs and Chumps VIII – Let’s Get Lost Tonight

I haven’t done a Champs and Chumps in a while (I think I am still traumatized by the whole Fox News thing). Lately my life has been full of Things You Shouldn’t Blog About, so this is probably a good time for one.

Ready Freddies?

CHAMPS

The Moth: This is one of my favorite podcasts. The format is simple – storytelling in front of a live audience – but I can’t begin to tell you how much this has charmed me. Most stories are hilarious (the Wendy Spero one was especially hysterical) but they can be poignant and moving, too. (Don’t listen to Mike DeStefano’s story unless you’re prepared to weep in your cubicle.)

Frank & Erik Internet Famous: It just gets more and more appalling with each episode, and I mean that in the best way. I’m afraid to listen to this while I’m running or at work because I can’t help but snicker like a lunatic.

My Pepper Plant: I thought it was dying, but there are new blooms and new peppers! This plant is my pride and joy.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “Zero” is so danceable and I just have a ball with every listen. I cannot wait for their new album. “Fever to Tell” and “Show Your Bones” never get old to me. I’m totally confident that the new album will be just as fresh but 100 times lighter and more upbeat.

Twitter: Now that Ashton and Demi have been banished from my feed, I am loving the whole Twitter culture. I like getting clever Tweets from my friends and I love how celebrities have totally embraced it. The Michael Ian Black/Levar Burton Twitter War is especially silly.

Portable Breathalyzer: Charles brought one of these to Janet’s party. It’s a brilliant strategy – drunk people love toys and a challenge, so people blow into it and inadvertently become aware of their drunkenness. I’d like to think that I don’t drive buzzed, but in this city it’s almost inevitable. I plan on buying one this week. Most of my new friends live in the city and I am in the county, so this way I can go to bars with them and get home safely.

AllGoogly.com: Speaking of Charles, he started this site where he puts googly eyes on everything. I love how the personality of each innanimate object immediately becomes apparent. It’s cute and I’m pissed I missed out on the Googly photoshoot at the last TPC.

Old Friends: Ty, Warren, Sarah and the gang showed up on my doorstep at like 1 in the morning last weekend. They used to drop by my parents’ basement all the time, or bang on the bedroom window of my first apartment. That night made me realize how much I miss the harassment. I love those guys.

Allison: Fellow blogger/Film Pig Pal/Twitter Buddy/Facebook Friend Allison surived this absolutely horrific car crash and I am in awe. Obvious chumps to the crash, but champs for quick thinking, walking away from that and taking it like, well, an actual champ. Also high fives for the fun blog!

The Real World – Brooklyn: It would take an entire entry to explain why I adore this season and this cast. Rich said it best. I haven’t liked The Real World since Season 10 and I rolled my eyes out of my head when I initially heard they were going to Brooklyn. But this cast is so relatable and sympathetic and interesting – even the unlikable ones are lovable. The binge drinking, ditzy girls and lame jobs are gone. All the things I love are back. I didn’t realize it at the time, but wow, I’ve missed you Real World. Welcome back to my TV and my heart.

Courtney’s Twin Peaks Nikes: Courtney is so incredibly fly. Check out these kicks. TPC represent!

Cheez-Its for Lunch: I didn’t bring enough change to work today and I didn’t feel like leaving for a long break, so I made a meal out of it. It’s carbs AND protein, right? I found 6 burnt ones and they are the best. You know you are jealous.

CHUMPS

Tea: I think I am allergic to chamomile tea! Oh no!! Everyone told me that my puffy eye was from dust or dander, but when I drink chamomile tea, I feel tingles and puffiness and everything. I blame Pat for converting me to tea in the first place. I still drink it but I top it off with a bunch of antihistamines. So this way I’m extra sleepy, which was the point of drinking tea in the first place.

Magazines, Absence of: I don’t have any “guilty” pleasures. I allow myself to have stupid fun sometimes and I am proud if it.* That being said, I LOVE MAGAZINES and I always pick one up when I am grocery shopping. Right now there is some sort of distribution dispute, and I get so depressed when I look at the magazine racks and see nothing new.

UPDATE: Magazines are at 7-11! I read an entire People in about 20 minutes.

Being a Free Agent: It’s been a while since I looked at a couple and got sad about being single. But I was outside with Sarah and Jaime at the video shoot and wow, I miss having a BFF. 99% of my chick friends are married, so it’s impossible to have that friend you can always hang out with. Dudes have gotten to that age where if I try to be their BFF, they want to marry me or whatever. I am everybody’s friend but nobody’s best friend. Sometimes the freedom is cool, but watching Sarah and Jaime interact made me miss my old BFFs and that feeling in general.

Rich’s “Break”: Rich was recapping The Real World over at Four Four, but he’s decided to take a break to work on some other stuff. I’m happy for him, but his recaps reminded me of Television Without Pity’s glory days. They were so funny and I’m sad that I won’t see any more amazing animated GIFs.

Schnucks Portabello Artichoke Cakes: Best damn thing I’ve ever eaten. So why are they here? Well, Schnucks stopped making them. How could they do this to me? This is all I ate for a week and a half, and now I am lost. I’m thinking about writing a letter. Yes, a letter. Because I am 90.

Disneyland/Portland: They are stealing my friends! Boooo! Josh is moving to (work at) Disneyland; Janet and her husband are moving to Portland. I am excited for them but totally bummed out for me. I know Janternet and I will communicate often but you guys, I am going to cry so hard when I say goodbye to Josh. There was a time when I wouldn’t leave my apartment unless it was with him. He basically saved my life. Ugh. Goodbyes are the worst.

This Shirt I Am Wearing: There’s wire in the lining. I had an incredible silhouette when I put it on this morning, but when I sit down the wires bend out in either direction. I keep forgetting to fix it when I get up and everybody at work looked at me like I was a crazy person. I found it in the back of my closet. Can I even wash this contraption?

Insomnia: It’s gotten so much worse than usual. I’ve had to miss work and skip parties because I am too tired. I hate it. I’ve finally signed up for auricular therapy. My first treatment is on Tuesday; I’ll let you know how it goes.

* Seriously – and I should include this as a CHUMP and even possibly a full bonus entry – why do people feel the need to prove their intelligence/coolness when you’re just trying to have a good time? Being a pompous buzzkill makes you look neither smart nor cool.

I listen to NPR and I get my indie fix from Pig Radio, but I am not a dick about it. I fully embrace Celebreality on VHI and goofily dancing to Top 40 music. I will still pour over an In Touch Magazine if I feel like it. I am secure enough in my education and my coolitude, thank you.

The Ladies and the Vamp

Sunday took a rather weird turn after I signed off. HBO (and Santa, and maybe Jesus) somehow deemed that all of my favorite movies should play in a row. I was treated to:

1. What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
2. Pump Up The Volume
3. The Craft
4. Police Academy 4: Citizens On Patrol

Needless to say, the night/morning flew by at an alarming rate. Despite watching the same amount of TV as a couch potato, I never actually sit on the couch. I’m always doing something productive like chores or working out. By 9 in the morning, I had completely run out of ways to occupy myself.

So… I decided it was time to see Twilight. At 11 in the morning. Alone.

At Crestwood Mall.

If you’re not from St. Louis or if you haven’t been to Crestwood Mall in a while, you need to know how scary and sad it has become. This used to be the mall where all the kids hung out (especially the arcade, Exhilerama). But right now it’s in the process of shutting down. Only a handful of stores are open, plus the theater and an actual blood bank. It is a ghost town with a Panda Express in the basement.

I told Jason where I was going and he said, “Have fun at Rape City!”

I pulled up to the parking garage and there were concrete barriers everywhere, like the airport after 9/11. I took the escalator up to the mall and EVERY store was empty and gated off except for “Rave”.

I nervously turned around corners, echoing with each step. A security guard walked by me, inexplicably dressed like a park ranger? He smiled at me curiously and tipped his gigantic hat. I tried to say “hi” but it seemed wrong to make noise.

I get to the ticket booth and –

remember that I am on 30+ hours of no sleep, standing in a post-apocalyptic version of my adolescent stomping grounds, completely delirious and bewildered

– the girl behind the counter looks EXACTLY like my friend Pammy (who used to drag me to this mall all the time), except this girl is a midget.

My Trip To The Movies, directed by David Lynch. I almost ran away crying.

~~~*~~~

Twilight was okay, but – and I’ve mentioned this before – it is pure emotional porn. Boys love movies with explosions and big boobs, girls love everything that comes out of Edward’s mouth. Watching Twilight in a nearly empty theater made me appreciate this comparison even more.

Aside from 3 kids in front (including a clearly-gay guy who shrieked “I love Akon!!” 8 times during the promos), there were only 10 of us. All women. Alone or in pairs. Sprinkled throughout the theater, far away from everyone else. I wanted to be alone because I was sleepless, but you could tell these gals wanted to swoon in private.

Edward kept saying all these perfect things like, “You are my life,” “I want to protect you,” and “Let me buy you dinner.” I could hear everyone around me sighing. But by the time we got to the part where Edward wants to stay up all night talking to Bella, I just felt DIRTY. Like I was in one of THOSE theaters. But the girl version, where everyone had a boner in their heart. You know?

~~~*~~~

5 Thoughts About Twilight the Movie:

1. I really appreciated the diversity of the cast, particularly Bella’s high school friends. Forks is described as such a small town, so I just pictured a bunch of redneck kids when I read the book. They don’t get much face time in the movie (or the books, really) but it was nice to see.

2. Bella’s little hissy fit in the hospital bed at the end is quite possibly the worst acting I have ever seen in my life. Kristen Stewart did a so-so job with the rest of the film, but that scene was atrocious – like she was briefly possessed by Heather Graham.

3. I’ve always wondered how action surrounding “kids today” would be portrayed in a film, because these days so much communication and drama happens on a computer. So I appreciated the Google Montage. I actually caught a glimpse of this Noferatu pic, which mean Bella was probably referred to my blog via Google Images like thousands of other people. Possible shoutout?

4. You’ve probably caught a glimpse of that scene where they are talking in the woods. It is pivotal and dramatic for many reasons, but they wander around a lot and I spent the whole scene thinking, “Bella, your backpack! You set down your backpack! OMG DON’T FORGET YOUR BACKPACK!!”

5. Despite all of the Edward worship, I actually developed a bigger crush on Jasper. During the (pretty!) ending credits, I learned that the actor is named Jackson Rathbone and I find that hilariously hot.

Someone Please Make The Sun Come Up

The good thing about insomnia is that when it snows for the first time this winter – gigantic fluffy flakes so thick you can hardly see through it – at 4:30 in the morning, you don’t miss a second of it. And because everyone around you is asleep and dreaming, you feel like it is just for you.

The bad thing about insomnia is that at 3 am, you discover that all the HBOs and Showtimes are working for no reason. And you flip past 30 Days of Night – the one with the nasty-ass vampires in the snow – and you get sucked into watching it. And then you have to go out into the snow all by yourself.

I really want to tell you about Janternet’s party, but it involves so much HTML and remembering stuff and being witty, and all I want to do right now is forget about those ugly vampires by curling up with a book about sexy vampires. Run on sentence, hi. I also want to tell you about my rekindled love affair with New Jack Swing. I will have to do it later. Maybe in a few hours when I am still awake and totally delirious?

Tonight I hung out with my high school friends and it made me so happy. Ted and I played 8 games of Egyptian Rat Screw. We won 4 games each. This battle has been going on for a decade. I think we subconciously tie on purpose because trash talking with Ted is one of my favorite things in life.

I’ve been on a New Friends Kick recently, but sometimes it helps to recharge myself by hanging out with some of the oldest, some of the best. Even when they’re farting nonstop. Even when they’re teasing me about nothing just so I’ll make “that face”. Even when they remind me that I am very, very short:

Seriously, has Warren always been two heads taller than me? Why couldn’t they make me feel this little and dainty back in the day?

I love how I started this entry with a gimmick/concept, and now I’m just rambling about anything and everything to keep the vampires away.

UPDATE: I’m all better; I just stumbled across What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, and after that is Pump Up The Volume. YES.

The Chronicles of Cuteness

The other night the Jersey Boys sent me a picture so adorable, words could not express how much I loved it. So I had to show them, Music Mike Style:

That’s how I’ve been feeling about everything lately. It’s all too cute to handle. Cute friends with top-secret missions to cheer me up, cute boys who make me laugh, cute letters arriving in the mail, cute arts and crafts, and of course that cute French kid who still cutes my socks off.

Janternet had a Radical Game Night Birthday Party tonight (yesterday?) that was so cute, it deserves its own entry. Hell, that party deserves its own trilogy. Amazing.

And the cutest thing of all? The cutest thing to cute around Cutetown? The return of Charlie the Chihuahua. He has been here all weekend. Every ten seconds or so, he does something to make me squee.

Charlie is part poodle and somehow this means he can grow a beard?

A full-grown teeny-tiny itty-bitty cute beard. That’s what it is. He is so fat and wiggly! I am dying.

~~~*~~~

I haven’t been able to sleep – worse than usual, that is – for the past month. So tonight (today?) I am resetting my circadium rhythm. I stayed up all night and plan to crash in the early evening.

When I actually PLAN to stay up all night and no one is staying up with me, I’m insanely productive and manage to have a blast while I’m at it. It’s 4am and my apartment is sparkling. In an hour or two, I’m going to make a legendary/fatty/glorious breakfast and geek out with Twilight: Book 3 while the sun comes up. (TEAM JACOB, btw.)

I’m only sharing this to explain the first half of this entry; I am not stll drunk from the party. (Charles’ awesome breathalizer gave everyone the OK to drive home.) Just slap-happy and normal happy and completely caught up with life for once.

I was going to whine to you guys about something, but it has completely escaped me. Isn’t that the best??

P.S. I cannot believe it’s taken me this long to put “Poison” by Bell Biv Devoe on my iPod. Get with the program, Stephanie.

P.P.S. Never trust a big butt and a smile…

Diphenhydramine

I’m starting to feel like myself again.

Apparently Ambien is not good for me. I kept taking it in the hopes that I would just adjust and I’d be able to sleep like a semi-normal human being.

Instead, it makes me depressed and unmotivated. It gives me headaches. It gives me nightmares. It makes me blackout. I’ll wake up the next morning and realize that I had hour-long phone conversations and arguments that I don’t remember, that I ordered Pilates tapes or some other random nonsense off the TV, or that I wrote several pages of incoherent rambling in my journal.

Life was better when I didn’t sleep. I mean, damn.

I’m working on some professional projects for the Foundation (I just realized I have no idea how to spell professional. Oh, the irony). This means I will get experience and also a *contract*! How cool is that? I’ve been getting paid so little for so long that I didn’t even care how much they’re going to pay me.

I’ve found some cool jobs online, I just haven’t had time to properly apply.

I took diphenhydramine last night in order to sleep, which is what I’ve done for pretty much the past 10 years. I found sleeping pills that are pure diphenhydramine as opposed to Benadryl or Nyquil, which have other things I don’t need. I’m kind of aching, but overall I feel much better. I didn’t have any “Theresa-falls-up-the-stairs-Theresa-falls-down-the-stairs-dude-where’s-my-kidney” nightmares (To Jen, Ron, and Nick: holy shit). And I can remember everything I did from 7-10 pm, which is a nice change of pace.

I still love Veronica Mars and Lost. The writing is making me sick. It’s that sweet.

I haven’t smoked in 3 weeks!!! EEEEEEE!!! Life is a lot less fun, but at least I smell good.

Ra and I saw Master Shake from Aquateen at the Webbies. He was hilarious.

I guess that’s it. But to everyone who’s seen/talked to me in the past 2 weeks: sorry if I was crazy or a little shitty. Now I’m back to just being adorably annoying. Whew!

Why I’d Rather Drink Myself To Sleep

So last night was the first time in over 6 months that I’ve attempted to fall asleep completely on my own. No sleeping pills, cold medicine, antihistamines, or booze.

Eh. It went okay, I guess. It took a couple hours. Insomnia sucks.

I thought a lot about a drunk argument I had a couple of nights ago. It was kind of about “Jesus movies”, and whether or not Constantine has anything to do with upcoming film version of The Da Vinci Code. I don’t think that they do… one is completely about the supernatural and one is about history, facts, and conspiracies. It was a stupid conversation. But that’s besides the point.

For the record, I vote for whoever’s in the middle because they do the least amount of shit-talking. I don’t go to church because I haven’t found a new one that fits. For 90% of the issues, I don’t really have a “side” because I can kind of relate to where they both are coming from.

But I am so F-ing sick of people ripping on the Red States, Christianity, and The Passion of the Christ, simply for the sake of talking shit.

I was raised in an uber-Conservative house, I grew up attending a “holy-roller” church, and I have a brother in the military.

I went to an extremely liberal college, I have an eclectic group of friends, I’ve done my share of experimenting in whatever and I try to not be a douche-bag when I’m talking about people or beliefs that are different than mine.

But calling a Conservative Christian an asshole simply because they are a Conservative Christian is such a fallacy.

Yeah, an apple can be red. But not all apples are red. Not everything that’s red is an apple.

Conservative Christians can be hypocritical, closed-minded, and judgmental. But not all Conservative Christians are hypocritical, closed-minded, and judgmental.

Not all hypocritical, closed-minded, and judgmental people are Conservative Christians.

The fact that I live in a red state doesn’t say shit about me or what I believe. The fact that I don’t agree with the majority doesn’t matter. That’s still my home. Don’t talk shit about where I live. I am so fucking sick of people using the Midwest as the prime example of ignorance. I know the world revolves around New York and L.A., but don’t blame me when you didn’t even take the time to drive your Vote-Or-Die bus down here, P.Diddy.

Yeah, Republicans and religious people can suck sometimes. The war sucks, and the military has had to say and do some shitty things. But that’s still my family. Don’t talk shit about my family.

I know there are pro-lifers who stand outside Planned Parenthood and say shitty things. But you know what? When I was about 8 or 9, I took part in a pro-life demonstration, even though I hadn’t really made up my mind about the issue. I was well aware that as an adopted kid, I could have been aborted myself.  I stood on the side of the road and held a sign that said “Jesus loves babies” or something like that, and I was okay with that because I suppose it’s true, Jesus does love babies.

Some people who drove by us waved and honked and smiled.

Other people gave us the finger and yelled.

One lady looked me right in the eye and spit on me.

I don’t want to be on the same “side” as a person who calls a scared, pregnant girl a whore and a baby killer.

But I don’t want to want to be on the same “side” as someone who spits on an 8-year-old girl who doesn’t understand why.

Taking sides leads to trouble, name-calling, and spit. I wish we could all get together and just work it out, and take some time to just think about the other side, where they’re coming from, and what they really want. Chances are, deep down, they have good intentions and they want the same things that you do.

I’m not sticking up for everybody. I’m not agreeing with anybody.

But not everything that’s red is an apple. Know who you’re talking about, and know who you’re talking to.

In other news, Jamie Foxx made me call my Grandma.