What happens when it's dark? I know! I know!

I did not go to work yesterday. I had a good reason, despite the fact that some people would point at me and yell “SLOTH!” No…it’s because I haven’t fallen asleep until 6am for the past three nights. Unfortunately, it's not due to some drug-fueled bender. It’s just insomnia…though I have felt like I’ve been having a bad acid flashback for the past few days, walking around as though underwater, my movements slow and peoples words floating towards me through a thick, muddy morass.

So yesterday, instead of joining the teeming masses of people who were coming off of holiday break, I napped, fitfully, until 12:30pm. I then crawled, gingerly, out of bed, hair in almost cartoon like disarray and crept downstairs, joined by Kylie who was about to issue a fatwa upon my head for serving her breakfast so late. “Tired all of the time and a negligent parent,” she’ll have scrawled on my tombstone. "Also, not enough walks."

I envy people who can sleep. I’ve never had the talent, though I practice each night, turning my light out, looking forward to those things people talk about…what are they? Dreams? Instead, I’m well acquainted with what my room looks like in the dark, how the shadows shift as the thin light of dawn starts to filter in. I can tell you how the traffic patterns change between 2-6am and used to have a detailed schedule mapped out of my neighbors’ sexual proclivities, heard through the thin walls of various San Francisco apartments.

In college, I became a champion napper. I discovered a whole population of people who COULD sleep but who opted to stay up until 4am because there were more fun things to do than slumber. The gaps between classes offered them enough time to nap and make it through the day without consequence. This was genius and a tactic I immediately adopted. People have always marveled at my ability to fall asleep anywhere. It’s true: I nap to survive. I remember a friend shaking me awake in the middle of a nightclub in London screaming over the bass, “You’ve been sleeping for the past twenty minutes!” I was remarkably refreshed and spent the rest of the night dancing.

I have tried everything over the counter without success. So when Ambien came along, I was dubious at best. Eight full hours of sleep? Impossible. But the first time I took it, I couldn’t believe the world I woke up to. I had slept. Blissfully. Without interruption. Was the sky always that blue? Were babies that cute? BUSH was president? I went on a sleep bender for months, looking forward to bedtime like a heroin addict would to the needle. But I don’t like to depend on anything, even eschewing caffeine, and so tapered nervously off wondering, since I had given my body a taste of the well-rested life, if it would take the hint and get with the program.

It did, for months. I would fall onto my pillow and within moments be asleep. I almost forgot how I spent the first 30 years of my life. I had crossed over to the other side.

Then slowly, the old patterns slipped back and the past year has been a mixed bag. So I admitted defeat and regretfully called my doctor yesterday, renewing my prescription. I’d like to think that I have more control over my body, that I could meditate or talk my mind into a state of relaxation that would make pills dispensable. Or if the world were nocturnal, running on my schedule, for instance. That would be nice.

Instead, I need help, and that’s ok. At some point, you have to come to terms with what you've been given. And for me, well, my circadian rhythms are extraordinarily out of tune. I remember being five years old and lying awake, listening to my sister breathe in her bed, knowing that with each passing moment it would be harder to stay awake during school the next day. I suppose one gift out of all of this is that I’ve never been afraid of the dark. I know it better than I do the day.

It WAS, however, the one movie in which David Caruso wasn't entirely annoying

I'm limping into the new year. Dribbling, rather. It would appear that I'm carrying on my families tradition of falling sick over the holidays as this is the second year running that somewhere, between Christmas and New Years, I've contracted some sort of virus that has had me wallowing around in feverish disarray wondering what it is that I did to deserve Chills and Nausea as bedmates. They aren't good cuddlers.

But! I've caught up on movies! Did you know that I was the last person standing to have not seen Rambo: First Blood? And LET ME TELL YOU, I've love to have that two hours of my life back. I know, I KNOW, it's one of the cinematic greats, but SERIOUSLY? A guy gets pushed around by some douchebag cops who are obviously on a donut induced power trip and so he decides to light up the entire town? Not to mention the stunning dialogue. I don't know...perhaps I'm too old, now, to appreciate what it once was. I will acknowledge that HOLY CRAP Sly was RIPPED. And nice headband. That will come in handy for the calisthenics you'll have time to do while in prison.

Regardless of the General Malaise, I'm happy to have left 2008 behind. That year bitch slapped me so many times across the face it's shocking I can still see. Which is not to say there were not some good moments - there were. But I feel like I spent most of it gripping onto 2008's ankles, wiping my tears on its sweaty gym socks crying "PLEASE BE NICE TO ME!" Someone needed to teach it some manners. It's satisfying to be able to shut the door in its face and welcome 2009 into the house. Here's to an abundance of blessings and joy on all of you. I'm going to go and do my three laps around the block now, per my mothers orders.

How I rang in the New Year: A tale of woe, rejoicing and sore feet

It started off innocently enough. There was a chicken salad for dinner. And some wine. Civilized amounts.
And then I drove us to San Francisco.
And there was no traffic!
We rejoiced!
And parked easily at our friends!
Things were going our way.
But then the cabs. OH THE CABS.
The one we called said he was downstairs…outside of someone else’s apartment, might I add, since the driveway was vacant.
“NONONO…I be RIGHT THERE,” he screamed into the phone when I called back to tell him that he had the wrong address.
He was not, right there.
So we pondered standing on a street corner and hailing one. Especially since I was wearing tall boots. Tall boots get things done.
Although, apparently that is only true when one is wearing, also, a short skirt.
Which I was not.
We were frustrated.
But! What HO! A bus! And it’s FREE!
So we boarded, and rode for many blocks, squished in with people who were ready to PARTY. There were many short skirts. I could see up some of them from where I sat. They could have procured a cab, I’m sure.
We de-boarded and decided to walk to a promising corner and, again, try our luck.
We had none.
And we walked and walked and walked. The boots turned out to be a poor choice. Also, we were afraid of getting shivved.
And then our friends called and said “Fear NOT! We will come and get you!”
And the angels sang! We rejoiced once more!
And then! Like manna from heaven! A cab appeared! And our friends were spared the trip out into the perilous, raging sea of New Years Eve.
We arrived.
There was wine that needed to be consumed. Because of all of the walking. And the fear of the shiv.
And we all laughed and ate.
And then I put on my stretchy pants, because, after all, if you cannot put on your stretchy pants with your friends, you need new friends.
The Wii was broken out. We thought “Should we move the red wine out of the way? Because the Wii can get fierce and you have white carpet!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! We are all over the age of 30! We have skillz!”
Though apparently, we don’t. There were some spills. But we also found out the awesomeness of Resolve, which apparently CAN remove all stains.
The clock struck 12midnight. There was some kissing. We bid 2008 adieu.
And then we brought out Rock Star.
And apparently I can rock the SHIT out of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
It was very impressive.
And then we were very, very tired. It was 4am.
Some people wanted pancakes, the others wanted sleep.
Sleep won. I rejoiced.
Some of us woke up feeling better than others. Some of us, dare I say, spent most of January 1st in a prone position, but those names shall remain concealed to protect the guilty.