Mostly actually, insomniacs say they just want to go to bed. But this one can't because she spent most of the night on their knees in front of the toilet, retching because of a spastic cough that came from nowhere but keeps a girl from sleeping peacefully. Or because there is a rogue centipede the size of an insomniacs pinkie running around. Or because it's too hot and my room is so dusty, that air conditioning will make an insomniac cough/retch more. And there's no vacuum cleaner because the last one broke and it was never replaced. Or because an insomniac may feel hungry after all that retching and ends up eating toast and doughnuts with tea.
What's an insomniac to do? She can't pick up a book and read it on her bed for fear of the centipede, not to mention the dim lighting in her bedroom. Due to a lack of couches and lighting, the living room is also out. So all an insomniac can do is dip into her resources and creep out into one of the apartment lounges. It's hot as hell but she curls up anyway and reads "Death of A Salesman." It sounds vaguely familiar and suddenly she reaches an epiphany. "I have read this book before! When I was in 6th or 7th...my sister was reading it in English class!" She really likes the play and is happy she bought it at the used bookstore, along with "A Streetcar Named Desire" and "Long Day's Journey Into Night." She adores these plays; they're all about dysfunctional people trying to come to grips with their oddness and failing, failing, they latch onto some other dysfunctional person.
An insomniac can then only reminisce about how she always wanted to be in a school play. How excited she was in 4th grade to find out she had Mr. Kausch as a teacher, who had put on a play last year when she was in 3rd grade. She waited eagerly all year for the play, but nothing happened. Meanwhile, the gifted class put on Shakespearean plays, but this poor insomniac wasn't in gifted; she skipped all the questions regarding circles on the IQ test because circles frightened her and she didn't want to deal with them. Then came middle school, the era of musicals, which has its own place, but wasn't so close to this insomniacs heart. She pulled the curtains over the play stage and did things that bored her or mattered to her then, but not so much now.
Now what she feels like is akin to a shriveled pea pod, curled up like a hand clenched into a fist. It's all work; work is work, play is work, the treading from work to play and back to work again is work. She has to wake up early tomorrow...shower, meet with the landlady, go to work, go to class, meet people for lunch, take out the textbook she never bothered to buy from the library, take good notes, and since she's feeling tired, maybe she'll go home and study for finals there. It's been awhile since she's gone home.
She's also recently discovered Maya Angelou and her remarkable gift in poetry. This insomniac has always disregarded Maya because of Oprah's blatant support of her. Oprah..the most modern mogul the world has to offer. Oprah, with her Favorite Things, her book club, her magazine, her show has expanded an empire who's reach and influence mirror those of Alexander, the Ottoman Turks, and the Romans. Hooray Oprah, thank you for doing what someone else could be doing and dressing so well while doing it.
Insomniacs often rant. They just want sleep to come. Maybe they're just blowing off steam, waiting for a cloud to form and float them away to greener pastures and snowier mountains.
Ah, still nothing. TUEESDAY, 9/1/09 is DOOMSDAY.
Breakfast: 2 pieces of cinnamon raisin toast and OJ
Lunch: 2 pieces of cinnamon raisin toast and OJ
Tea: Bluberry Lemon Streusal and Coffee
Dinner: An appetizer sampler of onion rings, fries, chicken strips, and mozzerella sticks (most of which eventually ended up in my sink) and coffee
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