tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
Guess what's back? My old friend insomnia!

Let's see, it's five A.M, that means I've been going strong for forty-one hours straight! It's not even one of those anxiety insomnias I used to get before an exam, no; things were going pretty well and then bam - even spending eight hours lying in bed with my eyes closed doesn't work, not even with chemical help.

The upshot is that I've straightened out some obstacles in my newest writing project these last couple of nights. I've been dreadfully negligent of my writing after I left the Academy - not so much as a short story in several years. Lots of ideas though, always a ton of ideas. But I've figured that this is the time for it: I'm in a mentally and emotionally unfullfilling job, I'm free from university tasks, and doodling in Sai isn't doing it anymore. I want to go back to creating.

Well actually now I want to sleep.

But you can't have it all.

Nrgh

Dec. 9th, 2011 02:41 am
tilly_stratford: (Cello in the rain)
It's half past two at night, I'm meeting a friend for coffee tomorrow, I'm dead tired - clearly this is the best time to evaluate my life.

I'm no use even talking about the specifics, I've come to the conclusion that my current existence is just pathetic overall. Now if I was able to sleep more than three hours every night that would probably help my mood a little bit, but I can't and there are still issues a bit of sleep obviously won't fix.

Screw this, I'm making tea and buttered* toast and watching another episode of that outrageous space western anime.


*Apparently - and ridiculously - there's a shortage of butter in Norway at the moment? I read there's already a black market for it. Still, I think I'm going to eat mine rather than selling it to fund my excessive lifestyle.
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
Got some weird sleeping issues again. Cramps made me lose a lot of sleep one night and my routine has been out of whack ever since. Like tonight, falling asleep around three AM and being wide awake (well not entirely) at six. So meanwhile, a bit of blogging.

You know, I've never ever ever considered getting a Nintendo DS. Handheld gaming platforms is just something that doesn't come naturally to me, but then again the last one I had was a Gameboy and the only game we had for it was Tetris anyway (And we had to walk barefoot in the snow to school and all that. No but really, we had tons of SNES games, we just never bothered with the Gameboy at all). See; Why I still don't get Pokémon references.

Anyway what I'm getting at is that Tumblr has shown me Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, a game that looks so awesome it's giving me physical pain knowing that I might never be able to play it. Just - hng! - the character designs and animation and cheesy noir references and animation and adventure/puzzle genre and most of all the animation. I need to, I don't know, find someone who can lend me a DS for a month or so. Or alternatively an inattentive child in public I can steal it from.
tilly_stratford: (Bogie)
It's three A.M., can't sleep. No surprise there.

Have been lying in bed craving onigiri like maaad. Which is... unexpected. I usually only crave sweet foods, not salty.

I think it might just be because I cleaned the kitchen today. I think I might have created this Pavlovian response in myself where clean kitchen counter -> time to make onigiris.

Man, I've even got a packet of sushi rice somewhere. I swear, if I had anything to use for filling I'd be standing in that kitchen making onigiris (which is to say, burn my hands and then get salt everywhere) right now.

Also while cleaning I found the remaining roasted nori seaweed I used for my first ever batch of onigiri - because I'd read that onigiri isn't onigiri without the nori. But then I noticed the nori didn't really taste much and was hard to chew through and I'd bought it at a supermarket so maybe it wasn't good nori, who knows, but I wound up peeling it off the rest of the batch and I haven't used it since. And I can't bring myself to throw out non-spoiled foodstuffs so the big packet of nori is still there on the shelf, staring me down. No idea what to do with it.

Man do I want onigiri.
tilly_stratford: (Cello in the rain)
Nauseous as a result. As usual.

Kind of hungry. For some reason I've always been really adamant about not eating at night but hey, it's five o'clock. It's morning. I'll make myself a fish... pudding... sandwich. "Fish pudding", that can't be right. My shortcomings when it comes to the English language have always seemed to centre around types of plants, food and fishes anyway.

So anyway, I've been lying in bed these past few hours thinking about something a lecturer mentioned three years ago, which I haven't thought about at all since then. That's a hard one. I keep trying to remember any details, but - nope.

It was just an aside about some scientist (or something like that - an historian maybe?) she was talking about, who'd had a son and then decided with his wife that they were going to - essentially - help the boy become a genius. From an early age they booted out every sort of kiddie-appropriate entertainment and instead focused on teaching this toddler science and languages and music skills and that sort of thing, running a really tight ship all the while. Apparently he was fluent in a multitude of languages before he hit his teens, he breezed through his education, completed a university degree at an astonishingly young age - and then had a massive nervous breakdown and became a punk or hippie or something.

See, I'm not too good on the details. I'm not even sure if it's actually true, but the lecturer said it was anyway. Tell me if you know anything.

Three years later on a sleepless night this story suddenly pops into my head. I have absolutely no idea why.
tilly_stratford: (Constantine: Sly smoke)
The Clogman is having a party. He is the guy who lives on my floor, in the big proper apartment (not like me and my next-door neighbour Danish Girl, we're just lodging in two small rooms each). Thankfully the walls are very nicely isolated so all I can hear, apart from drunken shouting, is the bass from the music he plays, but it's not like the bass I usually hear when people in this building are having parties, it isn't untz untz untz like club music, it's deep and thrumming and constant, like listening to a lorry engine all night.

I miss the Architect. He was the guy who used to live in the Clogman's apartment until very recently. He played jazz records at his parties. Sometimes the Architect or his wife would knock on my door and ask me if I had various traditionally domestic items they could borrow, like milk (which I very rarely have unless I've got superspecific plans for it) or a bathroom weight, or or things like that. Which was always kind of hilarious to me, a middle aged architect and his wife assuming that an absent-minded student living alone with her cat would be more settled and domestic-minded than themselves. (Normally I couldn't help them with their request but I think it was sweet of them to assume I had these things).

I've never met the Clogman. He earned the name from the big clogs he for some reason chooses to keep lying outside the door of his gigantic apartment, at the top of the stairs where I invariably trip over them when I have to get to the fuse cabinet (which I have to do minimum twice a day in the winter).

No sirree, not a big fan of the Clogman so far.

Ugh

Oct. 3rd, 2011 03:36 am
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
I think we're looking at a fever situation here. I have a hard time deciding whether I'm cold or burning up.

In addition, before I went to bed I did some dread maintenance, and now my scalp aches like hell whenever it's in contact with something (such as, you know, a pillow).

Also when I close my eyes I keep hearing Billy Idol songs in my head.

I'm not entirely sure if that last one is a symptom of anything but you can never be too sure with these things.
tilly_stratford: (Trek: Spock bitchfit)
Insomnia is still a bitch. Thankfully I'm not in one of those "have literally not slept for days" periods - I get a few hours of sleep every night, thank goodness, but it's obviously not enough.

Also it really plays havoc with my emotional state. I just spent an hour writing a thousand-word entry about how useless and worthless I am, all my anxieties about my future, and my guilt over choices I've made - and how I'm worried I might be heading into a depression again because lately I've felt so very, very numb, feeling like my personality and opinions have all been a sham all along.

I was crying my eyes out writing that entry, and then, bizarrely, I took a break to surf Tumblr, where I wound up reading an essay about the negative connotations linked to words describing women, and I noticed that, by jove, I still have the ability to get mad about gender issues.

Then I went on to read about the Wall Street occupation - the unnecessary force deployed by the police, the complete disinterest of the mainstream media, how so many are ridiculing the people who've gone there to protest... And that makes me mad too. And immensely relieved that I still get mad about these things.

And right now I'm tired, but I'm not nearly as miserable as I was an hour ago. So what if I've gone a couple of months without a job; That'll work out eventually. Meanwhile there are people out there who are trying to change human society for the better, trying to right wrongs, and I'm excited about that despite myself.

I think I'll spend the night reading more about the Wall Street occupation, trying to see things from all sides. That is, if I don't fall asleep.
tilly_stratford: (Default)
I've been working so hard this past week trying to get back to a regular sleeping pattern, and on Saturday I felt I'd really arrived: Early to bed, early up, fresh as a daisy. Then Saturday night came, and there was a party in the next building again - these are for the most part pretty tolerable, usually ending around midnight or one o'clock. I went to bed at eleven.

It must have been one hell of a party, because it went on until sometime around five in the morning. And here I am the night after; Two o'clock and absolutely unable to fall asleep.

I had plenty of time to ponder the nature of contemporary parties though; Like how music programs like Spotify and Wimp certainly have democratized the selection of party music. That did lead to some musical gear shifts last night though, as the playlist went from the Sex Pistols to Britney Spears to The Beatles (sometime around half past three I heard 'I'm So Tired' and had to grin bitterly at the appropriateness).

And so - remember last insomnia post where I just did a bullet list about fandom-y things I've been thinking about recently? Let's make it a tradition.

Lupin, Dragon Age )

I would like to reiterate that I do actually spend my days searching for jobs even if it doesn't seem like it here - it's just that I feel more like talking about video game characters I like rather than how much of an unemployed loser I am. Just so we're clear.
tilly_stratford: (Kaizer: Humping Terje)
I've done all my little "unwind when you can't sleep" routines; I've played Tetris, I've sketched, I've made Lupin GIFs... Actually I really feel like playing more Assassin's Creed, but I know that'd only make me forget to go to sleep at all.

So whatever, random fannish thoughts help keep those "everything sucks and what are you doing with your life anyway" thoughts at bay:

Let's see; Assassin's Creed, Lupin, Scarface, Le Samouraï, and samurais )

Okay, so what if I just do my "going to bed" routine all over again? Make a cup of tea, watch an episode of Pink Jacket, cuddle the cat. Maybe my body didn't notice the first time.
tilly_stratford: (Constantine: Sly smoke)
Unexpectedly waking up at four o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when you went to bed very late (having been kept up by the noise from the party in the neighbouring building), and not being able to fall asleep again, now what is the point of that?

I'm nauseous, hungry, have a headache, and I spilled water on my laptop (don't worry, I turned it off and let it air dry upside down - it seems okay, though the backspace key is not as responsive as I'd like)... Generally feeling a bit miserable.

But not so miserable that I didn't get a kick out of seeing bits from the final Giffen and DeMatteis-made Justice League International story over at Scans_Daily (Is that Cluemaster? I love Cluemaster! And silly me didn't even know Ted Kord's full name!). Aw bless. I really need to get back on my JLI reading, Booster or no Booster.

Speaking of DC comics, I still haven't seen the final season of Batman: The Brave and the Bold (i.e. BEST COMIC-RELATED ADAPTION EVER). I need to get on that, pronto.
tilly_stratford: (Bogie)
Have a cold. Going through another insomnia phase. Drawing up a storm (smudged charcoal everywhere, will hopefully get my big self-indulgent fanarty project done in a month's time or so)

Overall, enjoying my vacation. Tiny and I watched another season and a half of The Wire (and then when I caught an episode of Boardwalk Empire on the telly I had a moment of "JESUS CHRIST THAT'S OMAR"). I'm currently at my mum's, going to accompany her to work today and possibly feel like I'm eight years old again (I remember my first introduction to computers at one of mum's jobs. Playing Snake and drawing in PorwerPoint for hours!).

Realized that even lounging in an empty house all day I don't feel even the tiniest inclination to turn on the TV. Though Get TV's ad-free radio channels are pretty great (There's nothing like illustrating a gun fight while listening to Johnny Cash. And then being violently pulled out of the mood when Neil Sedaka starts to play).

I can't think of a way to wrap up this entry, too groggy after only two hours of sleep.
tilly_stratford: (Cat: Miyazaki handle with care)
Having another period with insomnia, I can only seem to manage a couple hours of sleep every night. Constant headache and nausea not good, but at least two hours of sleep per day is better than none. Anyway I don't need a lot of energy to play video games and draw anyway, which is what I'm doing these days.

So instead of being negative I'm going to mention how the sky looked completely breathtaking tonight as the sun was setting - the light spilling all over like the delicious runny yolk of a perfectly fried egg (and remind me not to try to wax poetic ever again when I'm this sleepy).



After three years I still love the view from my window.
tilly_stratford: (Holmes: Curious collection)
So you've got a bit of an obsessive personality.

So you've got a bunch of friends who share many of your interests, but not all of them, obviously. You can appreciate that they're not interested in hearing you talk about your newest obsession for hours every day.

So you make a blog, on LiveJournal for instance. You're glad to have a forum where you can write whatever you want with little to no thoughts about coherence or presentation. Then you make friends there, friends who you respect and admire and who use their blogs to write interesting, educational, funny stuff, and you get sort of embarrassed about writing sixty consecutive posts about, say, how cool an actor who died before your mother was born is.

So you make a Tumblr, microblogging is in. You have a mode of expression that is pretty much designed to be stream-of-consciousness and as high or low-content as you want it to be. You follow some people's tumblrs and they post funny, beautiful, amazing stuff and then some of them follow you back, and suddenly you find yourself stopping yourself from posting something you like, because my God you don't want people to hate you for spamming their dashboards with caps of a stupid cartoon show you like.

I'd just go back to writing all my thoughts down in a notebook if it wasn't for how great it feels when you can enjoy something with somebody, and they might be in a different country or on a different continent and still you can both look at something and say "Aw, I love that!"
tilly_stratford: (Bogie)
Gosh, those histamines really take it out of you, don't they? At least I do sleep at night now (though not nearly for as many hours as I'm used to), but I spend the next day with a pretty uncooperative body, something halfway between a rag doll and Plastic Man (maybe if I just practice a bit I'll be able to go full Plastic Man and then I can do all my chores without ever getting up from my seat again).

I try to regain control over my body by going for walks, mostly in places with low traffic (as I'm a bit groggy still and not completely trustful of my senses), which means I go places I don't usually go and notice things I've walked straight past before. Today I walked halfway round the bay Store Lungegårdsvannet and noticed for the first time a memorial pillar to seven members of the Royal Australian Air Force (463rd Squadron) who were killed in an attempt to destroy the u-boat bunker in the bay in 1944. I couldn't help but notice that the senior officer (and oldest crew member) was only one year older than me.

I haven't got any clever or deep observations to come with at this find, only that I seem to be tripping over bits of history with every step in this city. And I get the exact same jolt of surprise every time I realize all those bits of history involved real, actual people.
tilly_stratford: (Trek: Spock bitchfit)
Back from the doctor's - or rather, the ER, as I was told it was the only option available as my registered doctor is on the other side of the country. Haven't slept for three days at this point. (Fun hallucinations last night included being momentarily convinced there was a fire in the apartment, and a taste in my mouth of custard gone sour that just wouldn't go away).

Thankfully I got a prescription for histamines to numb me down tonight, I'm feeling very optimistic - but oh God, I'd rather take four pap smears than go through that consultation again. I know my appearance doesn't do me any favours, but it still came as a shock to me how readily the doctor believed I was a drug addict. At first he was reluctant to prescribe me anything, it was only when I started crying (he dutifully wrote down in the journal, "The patient shows a tendency to weep when talking about not sleeping.") he agreed to help me, but he told me that I shouldn't come back.

Jesus Christ, I realize there must be recreational drug users coming there for their fix, but man, did he really think I came there to get a buzz from goddamn allergy medication? It's horrible to talk to a doctor who doesn't believe you.

But still, I'll be damned if I'm going to let him ruin my day. I'm going for a walk, gonna collect my meds, and try to enjoy the day.
tilly_stratford: (Cat: Miyazaki handle with care)
I've had a lot of side effects from insomnia before, but these hallucinations are really something else.

I actually hear people that aren't there. Moving around in my apartment. An hour ago they hummed a rather cheerful song in the kitchen. After that they started whispering to me. That was new. And kind of horrifying.

But don't worry, they didn't tell me to do bad things or anything, though they did talk about some kind of "conspiracy". And then Celtic etymology? It was all rather disjointed, but apparently even the figments of my imagination are kind of geeky.

Notice I'm actually being kind of calm about this? Even though I'm sort of scared I might be going bona fide insane? Anyway I've tried crying, that didn't seem to help, and I've tried to call everyone but of course they're all asleep and can't hear the phone ringing (I really don't blame them, I would so too if I could, it's just kind of a bummer for me right now), so I'm thinking the best course of action right now is bitter resignation. And then if I can keep a smidgen of my sanity 'till Tuesday I can get that sweet, sweet student discount at that doctor's I like.

The question right now is whether to put on a movie or something to keep the scary insane stuff away, or go back to bed and try to sleep (with the risk of the noises returning).
tilly_stratford: (Trek: Spock bitchfit)
OH HELLO TWO O'CLOCK ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. BEEN A WHILE SINCE YOU CAME AROUND. EXCEPT FOR YESTERDAY.

NAAAGH my "falling asleep" button is broken again. Doesn't matter if you go to bed at a reasonable hour, yawning every five seconds, that headache from too little sleep trying to nudge out your left eyeball. Doesn't matter if you more or less manage to empty your mind for half-an-hour's time, waiting to finally doze off (and then spend the next hours trying to silence that voice going "OH GOD YOU'VE GOT SO MUCH TO DO TOMORROW YOU HAVE TO SLEEP NOW OH SHIT WHY AREN'T YOU SLEEPING").

Doesn't matter if you take your fucking sleep medication...!

I really feel I play by the rules, whatever rules I've come to imagine there are to falling asleep. But right now it feels like I'm playing a rigged game. I can't win, no matter how laughably easy it looks.

What makes it worse is that it's been so long since I had these kinds of insomnia problems. I vaguely remember periods when I managed to mostly focus on how incredibly dull it is to go to bed by 11 and lie there utterly awake until the clock rings at 7. I was a complete zombie, of course, but I could observe my sleep deficit in an entertainingly detached way. I tried to mostly combat the boredom.

I would so much rather that sense of mind right now, because now I'm anxious and jittery and worried by the fact that I never understand why this happens on some nights and not on others. This is all me - there isn't an outside force that makes my hands tremble this much. Even looking over the text I've written so far is oddly fascinating, because to my eyes it's washing back and forth and up and down - not quite like water, but like how I would imagine the waves in The Tempest looking in a moderately well-off threatre production.

Whoo there they go. (Silly me had half a plan to while away the worst parts of the night playing Assassin's Creed II, which my buddy Åsmund graciously lent to me today, but something tells me that if I get a bit overwhelmed at the dancing of a wall of text I've just written, running around in Renaissance Italy finding allies, collecting feathers and elegantly murdering people (well okay that last one still sounds fun) might a bit too much for me to handle in my present state. My God was that a run-on sentence.)

You know, I've never ever, not once been drunk in my entire life. I imagine it's something between this half-cocked way of experiencing the world around you, and probably something like what I felt that time they gave me anaesthesia before my operation. There's probably more to it though, since people seem to be so fond of getting drunk.

Yes, you could tell from the second paragraph on that I'm hesitant to go back to bed. But I should, shouldn't I? Give it another go? Give it yet another go...
tilly_stratford: (Holmes: Whisper)
There is a point where a lack of sleep makes even the smallest sensory stimuli completely overwhelming. I reached my limit at four o'clock this morning.

There was one solitary bird.

On those occasions when I do lie in bed getting more and more frustrated at seeing the sky gradually lightening five hours after I began my futile attempt at a night's sleep, there's only ever one bird. This one was chirping its little heart out, apparently violently overcome by the joy to be alive on a Monday morning at four o'clock.

It was the most grating noise I had ever heard. Every throaty chirp seemed to connect like a punch to a particularly sensitive spot in my inner ear. But inexplicably, it was also at that precise moment the most beautiful sound I'd ever come across. I'm not joking. I was somewhere smack between wanting to kill that bird for that godawful noise, and starting to cry because those five notes it sang again and again in quick succession struck me as so painfully perfect, I wanted to memorize them so I could put them in a song that would definitely become an international hit.

That is, until the moment passed, I realized I was experiencing one of those sensory-overload sensations I sometimes get when I'm exhausted, and I rolled back into bed and tried, again, to sleep.

Three minutes later some obscure brain synapse twitched and I immediately remembered a cartoon I'd scrolled past on my Tumblr dash the day before, and though it had only sparked some recognition from me then ("Oh silly Red Lanterns and their rage vomiting"), at four o'clock it struck me as so intensely funny I went from drifting-off-to-sleep to bent over double in bed howling and choking on my laughter in 0.002 seconds. I had to muffle myself with my pillow, tears streaming down my face at laughing so hard. And then it ended just as abruptly, and I fell back in bed, contemplating the ceiling.

I still haven't gotten any sleep, but you know - who needs drugs? (Except possibly for sleeping pills. Yes, I think Tilly's gonna treat herself to one of those tiny little oblong ones tonight).
tilly_stratford: (LS: Please run)
Hah. Like there's any chance I'll catch a full night of sleep tonight.

God I wish I wasn't wired this way, where every tiny little uncertainty keeps me up at night. Tomorrow's just the information meeting for this semester, for chrissakes! It's not like I'm freaking out, it's just... nagging in my head. It's officially the start of the semester, and I'm already a bit overwhelmed by the stuff I've got to get through:

- Writing two hundred questions for the next Trivial Pursuit Genus edition. In one month. I have to admit it's thrilling to finally play in the big league but Jesus that's daunting.

- Writing my bachelor thesis, which it turns out can't be about the Middle Ages because, uh, the degree I'm doing, Bachelor in the Middle Ages, doesn't exist anymore. Except it sorta does, because I have to finish it.

- Taking some other 200-level history course. Both the thesis and the course wouldn't be so scary, only I have to:

- Take the HIS102 exam over (and very possibly the HIS115 exam too - I've delivered a complaint to the University about it and it would lovely if they could ANSWER IT SOMETIME). And I'm still so ashamed that I failed, even though I know I shouldn't be. On the HIS115 exam I honestly thought I did a good job, but apparently I didn't. That has never happened to me before. It's... scary.

But I keep telling myself that I'll have to deal with these when they come to pass, right now I should really just... get some sleep. I don't want to start the semester this way.

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