Impulse Sleep & Fire Eyes

So I bought this sleep CD in line at Rite Aid a few days ago along with some generic Tylenol because when I go to drug stores, I can't buy just one thing. Not when there are so many useful things sitting around! I can't stop. Don't judge me. I saw it, I thought "Oh, a night of peace and solitude!", and I instinctively went for my savings card.

Except that I don't have a Rite Aid savings card at Rite Aid, only one for CVS. But guess what?! I bought it anyway!!! That is the kind of pathological behavior I exhibit given the right fluorescent-lit, consumer-driven atmosphere.

I saw it as a Baby Mozart for adults. Maybe there's something to these fads. That is, I listen to it and not only do I sleep better but I get smarter and more eloquent. Then, after I have that under my belt, I start reaping other benefits like people telling me my hair smells good and I stop being late to everything all the time. This is usually the logic spiral I employ to justify the most ridiculous purchase to myself, which is usually just the newest line of chapgloss. Either way. But still, I was excited. It said something about clinical testing for use with soldiers on the back. I like order! I could use some discipline with my snooze-hitting schedule! I like military corners on my bed!

So I tried it out, and guess what? I settled in, I listened, I grumbled. The ocean noises were nice and they segued into the loveliest non-threatening new age music, but my mind goes a mile a minute (no time for conversions!). So I just started imagining what kind of ocean it was and what types of characters in a movie would exist for a new age soundtrack and it kept me up for quite a bit.

I need to buy some old-school lullabies. Rockabye Bebby instrumental, and maybe something a little less evocative. I could have just dealt with some sleep affirmations: "You've got the prettiest snore," "Your nose curls upward when you snooze," "You're a go-getter, and you're gettin' that rest!" Things of that nature.

Also, I already tweeted about the above and the below but sometimes things beg for more elucidation than 140 characters. I have no shame in that.

I went to the ophthalmologist (spelling that counts as a brag) yesterday and this was what met my eyes.


A flat-screen fireplace at eye level! First of all, it's Spring. Second of all, why is it trying to be a dreamy pizza oven in a waiting room? Regardless, I was entranced and didn't bother helping myself to any of the enticing magazines or free email access. Begrudgingly, I almost see the point. Fire is fire. Humanity is impressed. Prometheus still got it!

Nightlife of the Party!

First off, Happy Everything! Now onto business.

So I took a nap in the middle of a party today.

Literally. I didn't move to a more covert location. I just stretched out on the couch and made good on half-lidded promises.

I asked my Mom later what people said and how they took it.

People talk. I know they do. I still expect to see and be seen even if I'm not conscious at the time.

It's hard having to set trends and not know how the masses are going to take them.

Plus shuteye photographs provocatively so I won't be surprised if my clumsy mug shows up on the gossip equivalent of some family blogging sites some time soon.

One of the hosts' kids confronted me later saying, "Hey. What happened?"

Oh, I don't know. I can't help that I rock so hard with my constant snacking and TV flipping that I reach a climax known as utter and total exhaustion.

It's pretty intense. I wouldn't recommend it for those with dignity or any sense of decorum though.

Reuse/Recycle Blog Material

So cleaning up old musings involves some good finds, such as this letter I wrote 17 years ago:

March 5, 1991

Dear smiling lady,

My Problem is that Reading I'm always reading and my mom says to stop reading and work. at I do it rarly. I try and stop but there are such good books. Like a a Milne Books and well there are to many good books. What can I do.Please at least try and put an answer.

Yours Hopfully
aparna

Ps you were always a good writer

[the spacing is siiiiiic]

&&&

Also, on a political front, I just got an email entitled: Babies: The Next Generation of Environmentalists.

Well, duh. I mean, look at this face:
This is the face of a carbon-conscious, locally growing-and-eating drool fool.
photo courtesy of Flickr and hellosputnik

***

Oh, one last thing before doomsday. Does anyone else have mundanely apocalyptic thoughts when sleep-deprived? Just me? K.

***

Lastly but should have been firstly, I just rediscovered this sharp piece of wit written by comic cohort, Seaton Smith. Cash this reading check with your eyes! You'll be laughing all the way to and from the bank.

Just What the Witch Doctor Ordered...

last night, i woke up in a dark place, physically and mentally.

it's a disorienting feeling when your eyes open...the ceiling is 2 feet in front of your face. and you're a backstabbing adulterer.

then i realized how i got there.

1) i was in my car.
2) i woke up in the middle of an indiestyle (heavy on the emo) no-friend-of-mine adulterous dream (details spared).

we're nappin'!

photo courtesy of Flickr and basykes

a nip nap

photo courtesy of Flickr and billsaturno

nippy to the nappy

photo courtesy of Flickr and scragz

izza nip nap skibbely dee

photo courtesy of Flickr and foxypar4

anyone can nap it up

photo courtesy of Flickr and Aaron_M

includin' you an' me!

photo courtesy of Flickr and wili_hybrid

so nap it

photo courtesy of Flickr and Timothy Lloyd

jus' nap it

photo courtesy of Flickr and samoyedfriend

turn my mic up

photo courtesy of Flickr and DEMOSH

drop a zzzzz

photo courtesy of Flickr and banna123456

i was so sleepy yesterday that i barely rolled into my driveway before stepping full throttle on the seatback recliner and going from 0 to 60 rem with rapid ninja precision, babystyle.

as my lurid subsconscious worked its voodoo freudian ballyhoo and hours passed, the sun set, my stomach protested and the car raised an eyebrow at my latest stationary exploits.

coming to felt like the end of a narcoleptic bender, lasting for days, weeks even. i barely knew who i was, let alone where, why, or how. rip van winkle, i feel your pain, man.

finally, i stumbled into the house zombieish, murmuring "i jus woke up? i jus woke up?", bleary-eyed, unable to walk a straight line...to the utter concern-quickly-transforming-into-giddy-delight of my father figure.

LATER A MIRACLE HAPPENED...in the bathroom!

(the only thing holding up this still shot is magic.)

today's 9-to-5-friendly tip: don't start small-talk conversations with coworkers that you don't know how to finish (short of trailing off and abruptly walking away). yes, it happened. no, i don't want to talk about it.