Every since I’ve been a little kid, I’ve been a light sleeper. A pin drops in the other side of the world, and I wake up (that is if I ever were to go to sleep in the first place). Typically before any big day, like an event, a big meeting, or a Purdue ballgame, I don’t sleep. I get so caught up in anticipation, that I can’t fall asleep. And then a few hours later, I get so caught up in wanting to fall asleep that I get flustered. Then I usually get hungry, at which point in time I step out to get a bite. And by then, its too late to go to sleep, so I just sit on my bed and stare at the walls. I have several friends who live on the east coast, so I wait till about 5am, and then start ringing each one of them up. And then when the alarm goes off, and when its usually time to get up and get going, I realize I do funny things in the bathroom with my eyebrows and sideburns. Many people claim they’ve never seen the sun rise – I on the other hand have seen the sun rise way too many times.
One of the reasons I think I’ve become so maniacal about sleep is probably because of my parents’ sleep patterns. Back when I was a kid, when my parents were sleeping, there was to be ZERO noise in the house. We would have to shut all the phones off, all humans and plant life would have to stop breathing, and the world would have to come to a stop. So, fortunately for me, I slept in a no-noise zone. I got the biggest shock of my life freshman year when I had to room with two of my buddies. Those guys would sleep through a nuclear attack. If one of them had a 7.30am class, they’d typically set the alarm for 7.29am, and guess who’d be the first one to wake up. I think they plotted it that way. They’d want me to wake up and then wake them up. And it worked…
I don’t remember sleeping very much through school. And then I graduated, and moved to the SF Bay Area. And I slept… till the apartment right next door to mine got occupied and I then found out how hollow some of the walls in my apartment were (ehem). From there, I moved to another place, which was a billion times quieter, but I still couldn’t sleep well enough. So, I blamed my bed for it. A couple of weeks ago, I moved in to my new apartment in the city. This place is a lot bigger than some of the other apartments I’ve lived in (relatively speaking) and it has hardwood floors throughout. So, nothing in the apartment to absorb the noise, except for the furniture. I could’ve sworn that a couple of days ago I heard someone sing in my living room (did I mention I live alone?). Consequently, I’ve decided to invest in a white noise generator (anyone have any suggestions?)
The past couple of weeks have been tremendously stressful and busy. I don’t have high speed internet access at home (thank you SBC), and I have decided to hold off on getting cable because I think I watch way too many sitcoms. So, I’d typically hang out at work till really late, and get home just in time to fall sleep (or to try to fall asleep). I can confidently say I’ve slept all of 23 hours cumulative this past week (Sunday night through Friday night). And you know what’s sad, is that I think my brain and body have gotten used to it. Even though I had no reason to wake up this morning, I woke up at 8am (having slept at 2.30am). And here I am – another Saturday in the Haight.
So, is sleep overrated? Do I need to be getting cranky and concerned that I haven’t slept enough? Howmany hours of sleep do you get on average? I’ve realized I spend a large amount of time just thinking about wanting to sleep. And some times I think about thinking about sleep, and some other times I think about wanting to blog about wanting to sleep.