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When I was in high school and people would catch me online at odd hours of the night, inevitably they would ask why I was up at four in the morning. Besides my parents, no one ever really got that I wasn't big on sleep. It's a little less weird now, or maybe the people I know/know of just don't find it as odd, but still. So I'd tell them that I had nightmares. Fantastically awful ones, really. The kind where you wake up and don't go back to sleep until you physically pass out because your body shuts down, it needs to rest so badly.
It wasn't untrue. One of those a month would be more than enough to keep you up and wired for the other twenty nine days. But mostly I just didn't sleep. Or if I did, it was in the morning and straight on through til 3pm.
I don't know why I'm thinking about that now. Now I sleep. A lot. Some part of me worries that I should be more concerned about this, that maybe it's a sign of some problem. But there's another part of me that says yeah, you go right ahead with that worrying, but maybe after twenty six years of being awake after everyone else has gone to bed, up before everyone else's alarm goes off the first time, and with a decided lack of naps past the age of five, we just need some sleep.
The kicker is that even in the midst of my "two hours a night is a lot" phase, I would freak the hell out if I couldn't fall asleep when I wanted to. I would stress and freak out and despite the fact that I would probably end up with more sleep those nights than I did normally, I would absolutely refuse to go to school the next day. It wasn't even like it had anything to do with what was going on at school. It just...threw me, I guess.
On the other hand, you could probably trace the nightmares back to school if you wanted. I love that my brain is thoroughly unable to watch any movie or show or read a book or something where bullying is mentioned and not have the "grown up" part of me (that seems suspiciously like someone else) point and say, "THAT is bad. That is a reason to stop coming to school. And yet Fictional Character B can totally go. So why didn't you go? No locker shoves for you. No unfortunate meetings with toilets. No fun bruises or scars or things that would be easily identifiable as a good reason to turn around and just not. come. back. What the hell?"
And for a minute, I forget why. I forget that I was that unhappy. I forget.
And then it slams into me in this way that's not unlike a clip show in my own head. Meeting the people I would grow to loathe way back in the third grade. Being thrilled that they were only a part of my life for one day a week. Getting to middle school and realizing they were everywhere. That whatever protective bubble I'd had earlier (and how protective could it have been with toes being stomped on til they bled and being pinched to the point that my arms and sides were bruised for an entire year?) was long gone. Hitting high school and finding out that those fringe friends, the ones you actually thought would grow closer as you got older, sold you out for their spots in whatever passed for the popular clique. Which all sucks, yes, but still, you could deal, right? Until you realize every single class. Every. Single. One. Involves these people who have only gotten worse with age. And these people dislike you to the point that even the new kids have gotten the "No. Just... no." memo. The so loud even the clueless teacher could hear the, "Her? No way!" only less loving than that.
Getting your ass kicked is messy. It's painful. It can even kill you. But it leaves evidence if someone cares enough to look. If you just freeze someone out, you get what you want and no one can prove a thing. You need to speak up in class more. Talk to them first. Don't be so quiet.
Just like that, I remember.
It is what it was and you spend enough time being That Kid in the class and you either accept it, or you find a way out that doesn't involve your sanity being sacrificed. What can I say. I was a drama queen then as well as the occasional outburst now. :P
Moving along, because that came out of left field, I finally saw (500) Days of Summer which was pretty damn good. Not as good as I think a lot of people made it out to be, but pretty close and that's rare. Usually if enough critics and people say that a movie is awesome, I find that it tends to fail to live up to the hype. This was close enough that I think my biggest problem was simply I wanted more. Maybe I just wanted more of the non Tom/Summer characters? That could be it. I figure four out of five stars.
Now I'm off to debate the merits of finishing a book or watching my final Netflix movie from this bunch. *muse* Either way, it won't be up here. No air conditioning plus the cat making sounds like she's hunting something equals my cue to run screaming into the night. Nothing she's hunting up here is something I would want to see at 3am. Ick.
It wasn't untrue. One of those a month would be more than enough to keep you up and wired for the other twenty nine days. But mostly I just didn't sleep. Or if I did, it was in the morning and straight on through til 3pm.
I don't know why I'm thinking about that now. Now I sleep. A lot. Some part of me worries that I should be more concerned about this, that maybe it's a sign of some problem. But there's another part of me that says yeah, you go right ahead with that worrying, but maybe after twenty six years of being awake after everyone else has gone to bed, up before everyone else's alarm goes off the first time, and with a decided lack of naps past the age of five, we just need some sleep.
The kicker is that even in the midst of my "two hours a night is a lot" phase, I would freak the hell out if I couldn't fall asleep when I wanted to. I would stress and freak out and despite the fact that I would probably end up with more sleep those nights than I did normally, I would absolutely refuse to go to school the next day. It wasn't even like it had anything to do with what was going on at school. It just...threw me, I guess.
On the other hand, you could probably trace the nightmares back to school if you wanted. I love that my brain is thoroughly unable to watch any movie or show or read a book or something where bullying is mentioned and not have the "grown up" part of me (that seems suspiciously like someone else) point and say, "THAT is bad. That is a reason to stop coming to school. And yet Fictional Character B can totally go. So why didn't you go? No locker shoves for you. No unfortunate meetings with toilets. No fun bruises or scars or things that would be easily identifiable as a good reason to turn around and just not. come. back. What the hell?"
And for a minute, I forget why. I forget that I was that unhappy. I forget.
And then it slams into me in this way that's not unlike a clip show in my own head. Meeting the people I would grow to loathe way back in the third grade. Being thrilled that they were only a part of my life for one day a week. Getting to middle school and realizing they were everywhere. That whatever protective bubble I'd had earlier (and how protective could it have been with toes being stomped on til they bled and being pinched to the point that my arms and sides were bruised for an entire year?) was long gone. Hitting high school and finding out that those fringe friends, the ones you actually thought would grow closer as you got older, sold you out for their spots in whatever passed for the popular clique. Which all sucks, yes, but still, you could deal, right? Until you realize every single class. Every. Single. One. Involves these people who have only gotten worse with age. And these people dislike you to the point that even the new kids have gotten the "No. Just... no." memo. The so loud even the clueless teacher could hear the, "Her? No way!" only less loving than that.
Getting your ass kicked is messy. It's painful. It can even kill you. But it leaves evidence if someone cares enough to look. If you just freeze someone out, you get what you want and no one can prove a thing. You need to speak up in class more. Talk to them first. Don't be so quiet.
Just like that, I remember.
It is what it was and you spend enough time being That Kid in the class and you either accept it, or you find a way out that doesn't involve your sanity being sacrificed. What can I say. I was a drama queen then as well as the occasional outburst now. :P
Moving along, because that came out of left field, I finally saw (500) Days of Summer which was pretty damn good. Not as good as I think a lot of people made it out to be, but pretty close and that's rare. Usually if enough critics and people say that a movie is awesome, I find that it tends to fail to live up to the hype. This was close enough that I think my biggest problem was simply I wanted more. Maybe I just wanted more of the non Tom/Summer characters? That could be it. I figure four out of five stars.
Now I'm off to debate the merits of finishing a book or watching my final Netflix movie from this bunch. *muse* Either way, it won't be up here. No air conditioning plus the cat making sounds like she's hunting something equals my cue to run screaming into the night. Nothing she's hunting up here is something I would want to see at 3am. Ick.
