Sleep: Why I Hate It

At risk of running out of all my good material within the first week of starting this blog, let me tell you why I hate to go to sleep. This will be the first of a two-part series, because there also is a particular reason why I love to go to sleep. But since I must hate sleep first before I can succumb to it and, eventually, enjoy it, allow me to start with that stance.

Most nights, I attempt to stay awake for as long as I possibly can. This usually is done by sitting in front of the TV or the computer, by talking on the phone to Carrie or with my friend in Hawaii, or by reading a book. I just stay awake until my eyelids can't take it any more. Normally, I do this regardless of how early I have to wake in the morning. I just don't want to go to sleep.

In addition to staying up as late as possible, I set my cell-phone alarm to go off at random times during the night/early morning. A normal grouping of alarms might be 3:30 AM, 5:00 AM, 6:00 AM, and 7:00 AM. Something like that.

Why would I put myself through this? I mean, on a normal day, I try to drag myself out of bed by 9:00 at the latest. So why wouldn't I try to go to bed at a reasonable hour, get a solid night's sleep, and be refreshed come 8:00 or 8:30?

It's because, my friends, I fear the future.

That's right; I just said I fear the future. Hear me out here. When you're awake, no matter what time it is, you're in the present. Everything is stable. The past is the past, and the future is still off on the horizon. But as soon as you go to sleep, as soon as you drop out of full consciousness and hit semiconsciousness, the next thing that happens to you is the future. You're going to wake up the next morning and it's going to be a whole new day, and you'd better be ready to face it.

I'm not ready to face it. I never want to face it. A new day brings new responsibilities, brings you closer to your deadlines, brings you more unexpected twists and turns. The new day brings uncertainty. Who wants uncertainty? I want to know that I've completed the day, I didn't die, and, at least for the moment, everything in my life is in order. Who knows if it's still going to be in order tomorrow? I don't want to be in tomorrow; I want to stay in today for as long as possible.

Getting up at random intervals during the night helps that. If I just go to sleep at, say, 1:00 AM and sleep straight through until 9:00, that's eight hours of my life gone. I had no control over it. It's just gone, and studdenly the new day is here. Bam. If I get up every couple hours or every ninety minutes, though, the night is extended. "Oh, it's OK, it's only 3:15... I don't have to face the day for another five hours or so." I can handle that. Keep postponing it, even if I'm only tricking myself into thinking I'm postponing it. That's clever, folks, and it's a ritual I've employed for quite some time now. Tomorrow is always going to come--the least I can do is make myself think it's taking its sweet time.

If that sounds messed up to you, well, you must not have figured out yet that I'm a pretty messed-up guy. Stay tuned for part two of this post, likely tomorrow: Sleep: Why I Love It. Can't wait to contradict myself!