Advertisements

Category Archives: sleep

Confessions of a night owl

I’ve always been a bit of a late-night junkie.

When people in my family hit puberty, we lose the ability to sleep. It’s like clockwork, really. HORMONES BAM WHY DO YOU NEED SLEEP? It’s impossible to FALL asleep, and once you’re there, you have to be very, very careful to STAY asleep, because once you wake up, all bets are off. You might get an hour’s sleep, or six hours, but if you wake up too much, there’s no falling back to sleep. Or you might wake fully up for no reason at 3 a.m. and there you have it, then! That’s all the sleep you need! (It’s not. Not at all. You’re sleepwalking all day and you yell at people, and sometimes walls and/or your own feet for being stumbly.)

My grandmother and great-aunt never used their beds because why bother? They slept in their recliners with the televisions on. That way, they figured, if they woke up, they could at least watch some fine late-night television. My dad’s currently getting 4-5 hours of sleep a night. That’s actually quite a bit for him.

(Ironically, Mom sleeps like the dead. She’s in bed every night by 9 and up by 4-5 a.m. and she’s one of those “I’m up, let’s sing songs of little BIRDIES!” people that make you want to throw things. Talk about opposites attracting.)

A normal 9-5 workday never worked out for me. I hate alarms. I hate getting up early. I hate going to bed before I’m tired. If you’re an insomniac to begin with, going to bed when you’re not even tired is a waste of time. You just lie there and every stupid thing you’ve said in your ENTIRE LIFE goes through your mind.

I was a little nervous about the new job. See, I’m working weird hours now – til 1am three weekdays a week and over 10-hour days on the weekend days (I have to get up kind of early those days, but I get out at 8.) I worked the late shift at the answering service quite a few times over the years, and it never bothered me that much (things always slowed down a lot, and mostly we could chat and laugh, which was always good) but a job where you were actually WORKING and expected to be MENTALLY ALERT until 1 a.m.? Eeesh.

Well. Come to find out, this works PERFECTLY for me. Who knew the solution to over almost 30 years of insomnia is shifting your sleeping/waking hours? (FINE, I’m sure some scientist knew this. Everyone has Circadian rhythms, right? Well, who’s to say mine aren’t much different from everyone else’s? I mean, my brain seems to run at a different weirdo speed than most of the world; I wouldn’t be surprised if my rhythms are all off, as well.)

It took a bit of getting used to (a month or two, to be honest) but come to find out this is kind of perfection. I get to go to bed when I’m tired. I only have to set the alarm twice a week. I can let myself sleep as late as I want 5 days a week. Let that sink in – I can sleep until NOON if I want to FIVE DAYS A WEEK. (I don’t – I usually get up between 9:30-10 – but I COULD.) I’m actually perfectly alert until 1 a.m. (well, most nights – some nights the copyediting and proofreading is very, very dry, and my most favorite cheerful goofballs happen to have the night off, and there’s a lot of hurry up and wait, and on those nights I get a little yawny. But who wouldn’t, even during a normal day of work?) Then I get to go home, and it takes about an hour to unwind, and I’m off to bed. AND I CAN ACTUALLY SLEEP. I’ve been getting almost 8 hours of sleep a night for months. IT IS GLORIOUS.

ME EVERY NIGHT. (Plus about 40 years, let's be honest.)

ME EVERY NIGHT. (Plus about 40 years, let’s be honest.)

(Well, side note, not EVERY night; there’s a certain cat who’s QUITE sure that once the sun comes up, it’s playtime. So he leaps into my bed and tromps all over me and says “MEOW MEOW MEOW” all up in my face and I say sleepily “No no good boy go lay dooooown” and he is VERY EXCITED to hear my voice and then there is MORE tromping and meowing and “HEY MOM HEY MOOOOOM maybe it is time for wet food? Mom mom MOOOM! Meow meow meow PURR IN YOUR FAAAACE!” and sometimes there’s tickling my nose with his whiskers, which is not optimal, and sometimes even WORSE, there’s licking of my forehead, which he knows makes me giggle and squirm and put my head under the covers. That’s a VERY fun game for him because it means he’s won! Man, is that guy lucky I adore him.)

BUT! If you work nights (or want to sleep many hours into the sunrise) you have to follow many rules, such as:

  • DARKNESS! I had dark curtains but they weren’t enough. Em recommended blackout curtains and I got some for Christmas. They make ALL the difference. Those, plus closing all the bedroom doors most of the way (sadly, not all of the way, because there’s a certain cat in this household – YES, the same cat mentioned ABOVE – who cannot bear closed doors and would caterwaul and throw himself at the doors until I opened them, and that’s not going to help you sleep, because he needs to come and go or he can’t handle his FEEEEELINGS – are keeping my room dark like a TOMB and it is GLORIOUS.
  • QUIETNESS! There’s only so much of this I can get, because of the cat, you see, but quietness is important. I live on a somewhat-busy street, and the cars start being loud early, as do the children waiting for the bus and the upstairs neighbor who has a normal schedule and gets up early in the morning. I have mostly solved this with a very loud fan. I suppose I could use a white noise machine, but those make me nervous. Someone gave me one once, and my choices were “forest” (every now and then this very loud frog would be all “RIBBIT!” and how is that white noise?), “ocean” (which would have been fine but whoever recorded this put on screechy seagulls and also it made me have to pee all night), “wind” (which kept having these gusts which made me think the house was about to fall down and I was having nightmares about Auntie Em and the storm cellar) and “storm” (rain is soothing, except for the having to pee part, but random VERY LOUD THUNDERCLAPS are not. I’M AWAKE NOW IS MY HOUSE ON FIRE?) So I just turn on my fan and angle it away from my bed and it makes just enough whooshy white noise that I don’t hear much of anything except for the time some man came to my house trying to collect a debt from the prior tenant and knocked on my door AND all the windows (and you can be sure I reamed him a new one and he left apologizing and I think is so scared of me now he will never return.)
  • MEDICALLY INDUCED COMA! OK, so this one might not be for all of you, but I’ve been on meds for my sleeping issues for…oh, most of my adult life, and I take a teeny tiny pill every night that helps tip me over into slumberville. It doesn’t always work, but I’d say 90/100 times it does the trick. Aaah, prescription zzzzzs.
  • BEING COMFORTABLE! Comfortable sleep clothes are a MUST. You can take your sexy negligees and wear ’em to your heart’s content, my friends, I’m wearing flannel and t-shirts and, on very cold nights, a sweater over that, and maybe furry socks. And sometimes the cat is allowed under the covers because he is a warm little furry hot water bottle. You also need to know what kind of covers you need. Lots? Few? (Me, I’m a 4,000 blanket person. I like to feel MUMMIFIED under blankets. So I can barely MOVE. It is just my best thing.) How about pillows. Squishy? Hard? Feather? Foam? GET YOURSELF COMFY, YO. The more your bed’s a happy safe haven, the more you’re going to want to stay in it longer. There’s nothing worse than waking up because you’re freezing or in a pool of sweat. Plan ahead. And, related to this…
  • DO NOT DRINK ALL THE BEVERAGES BEFORE BED. Seriously, do you want to crawl out of that warm little cocoon you’ve so carefully constructed to pee like 14 times all night long? Especially when you KNOW when you get back the cat will have taken the warm spot in the bed and then you have to move him and he’s all “MEOW MOM YOU ARE THE WOOOORST” and then decides “Well, I’m awake, can I climb on you like you’re a mountain? Who cares, I’m gonna” and it takes forever to get back to sleep. Just curtail your orange soda after a certain time of night. You’ll be fine, my little gumdrops. You can drink all the soda in the morning, if you want. I won’t tell anyone.

SO, to sum up: I am getting the best sleep in my life by working weird hours. And when I tell people what hours I work, I get that face. That “oh, I feel so BAD for you” face. But I get to work with people who are ALSO happy to be working weird hours, and we’re kind of like kids who get to stay up all night and sleep in all day, and if anyone says anything about it we can say “I WORK NIGHTS” and this makes people kind of back away from you as if you might be radioactive (you kind of might) but little do they know, you’re actually kind of working the best hours ever.

(This all might be moot if you have children, or are in a relationship with someone who doesn’t understand weird hours. I decided about a month into this I was only allowed to date either other newspaper people, or writers, or maybe people who do long-distance truck-driving because who else is going to be up at these hours?)

Also, there is nothing better than doing errands in the middle of the day on a Thursday. NO ONE IS IN THE STORES! You can get in and out and it is like MAGIC! Yes, all of the employees think you’re unemployed, but who cares? YOU WIN QUICK SHOPPERY! Also, if you leave work at 1 a.m., no one’s on the roads, so you can drive really slow when the weather’s bad and NO ONE IS THERE TO CARE! It’s all very “I own the world, this is mine now” and empowering.

Now you know a secret: people working at night don’t always hate it, after all. Just don’t tell anyone. Then EVERYONE will want to work nights, and who’d open the stores early then? THE WHOLE AMERICAN ECONOMY WOULD COLLAPSE. I’d feel TERRIBLE. Eek!

And if anything goes on before, say, 10am on a weekday, you guys will let me know, right? Good, good. Much appreciated. All the love. *smooooch*

Advertisements

One step closer to world domination through poetry.

I got another one of the crazy-awesome escort-spams today and this time I remembered to save it. Ready?

Hi , men ! IT is a high time to tell important info you. We have discovered real paradise of lovely playmates . They won’t be equalize with others for the reason that they are ideal . Just see them on scotland escorts dot com.

Scotland escorts! I found Italian escorts easier to believe. Scotland escorts, however, I find easier to accept. They’d be more down-to-earth, and would have the best accents. I am a sucker for a Scottish burr, even more so than an Italian accent. Do you think these people have MALE Scottish escorts? WOULD HE LOOK LIKE JAMIE FRASER? I’m sure as hell not clicking on that link to find out, or anything. I even made it not clicky because I don’t want you to get spammed and also I don’t want them to get hits or anything.

Listen, this Scot can escort me anytime. ANY OLD TIME AT ALL.

I also like that they won’t “equalize with others.” I also often won’t equalize with others, much to my detriment.

It is MONDAY and I am writing this for tomorrow. I slept like a CHAMP last night. Seven and a half hours! I only woke up because I had to pee. Stupid bladder. I think I could have slept at least another hour. I did a project this morning while still in pajamas, I am currently doing laundry, once that’s done I will buy FOOD (Dumbcat says, “Mom, can you also buy ME some food, we’re down to CRUMBS here” and I say to him, “YES BABE”) and then I will finish this and watchboth last night’s The Amazing Race so I can talk about it with sj and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close before it’s due back at the library and I assume cry my face off because I’m not good at 9/11 movies but I do like Tom Hanks and also a good cry. Don’t you just feel so clean after a good cry? I think it’s the human equivalent of being hung on the line like wet laundry and then being brought in all clean and dry and smelling like the wind.

OK, before we start…whatever it is I’m going to write about today (haven’t the foggiest, to be honest) we have to discuss a VERY EXCITING THING.

So I woke up and the most amazing sj informed me that my book had made it to the next round of voting on the Goodreads reader choice awards thingy that we talked about a few weeks ago.

HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS.

Here’s the thing. My book wasn’t one of the selected books for people to vote for. There were pictures of the covers of the selected books, and then there was a teeny box at the bottom where you could write in a book if you wanted. And it wasn’t EASY to write in a book. I know this because I totally voted for myself. DO NOT JUDGE it’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same thing for yourself, were you in the same position. I’d do it if I was running for president, too, if I thought I deserved the position. (I don’t know that I DESERVE the award, but I WANT it, dammit.)

This, to me, is the equivalent of Mickey Mouse winning for president. (You know how everyone always says, “I’m voting for MICKEY MOUSE!” when they don’t like any of the choices? I wonder how many people actually do this.) Because people like the easy way out. And the easy way out is always going to be the name written on the ballot, or the book whose cover is right there in front of them, not the extra step that’s needed to fill out a box (also, it seems like a moot point to write a name in a box, because you’re like, “Well, THIS doesn’t stand a chance of winning, should I really throw away my vote here?”)

You all got me into the second round of this thing. You did this. Every single one of you who voted. I am so humbled and blown away by this. Enough of you voted for me in the little write-in box that you got my book bumped up to the higher “there’s my cover, yo” status in the next round. Twenty people made it into this round; only ten make it into the finals.

I totally had tears over this today. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. How am I so lucky? How did this happen? This isn’t something that happens to me. This is something that happens to someone else. I don’t get things like this. I just don’t.

But now that I did…well, let’s see, just for fun, how far we can take this little engine that could. You can click here, or click on the fancy widget the nice people from Goodreads emailed me today in my sidebar on the right over there (I GOT OFFICIAL CONGRATS EMAIL FROM GOODREADS!!!) and you can vote to get me on to the…finals? I think the next step is the finals. Yep, it is. ONLY TEN MOVE ON. What do you think, can we get this to the finals? This is very exciting. I think the last time I was in the finals of anything was the junior-high spelling bee. DAMN YOU OPPOBRIUM!

LEAF CONEYBEAR! If you know who this is you win. What do you win? My love and affection, of course.

Just got my hours for the coming week. It…um…looks like last week. Lots of hours, some overtime. Lots of exhaustion, I assume, as well. But I don’t have as many nighttime things to do this week, so it won’t be AS exhaustive. Only two things to do in the evenings this week – first read-through for The Laramie Project and seeing ARLO GUTHRIE ON SATURDAY AAAHHH! I might be a little excited about that one. I have very good seats. And I have never seen one of his concerts where I didn’t leave with the biggest smile. I love him the most. He always puts on a great show and it’s always so joyous and he tells the best stories and the high-school Amy who still lives in my heart is so happy when grown-up Amy takes her to Arlo concerts, I can’t even tell you.

I will see you soon, Arlo! I’ll be the one grinning like a moron right front and center!

Anyway, ANYWAY, I will be quite busy and worky this week as I was last week but maybe not AS insane. But I will not have time for my loved ones again, and that makes me sad. I like when I have plenty of time for my people because as much as I need to be working because it helps my wallet my people help my SOUL and you really need both your wallet and your soul healthy, I think. Sorry, people. I am thinking of you all the time. Oh, also, Dumbcat? Dumbcat, I am also thinking of YOU all the time, and your little furry face.

I also have a potentially exciting top-secrety thing happening this week which we may or may not be discussing at some point in the future, so that’s exciting and also secret. Shh. No more on that. Just like a spy, I am. Just…keep your fingers crossed for me this week? For some as-yet unascertained reason? Thanks. You’re the best. If you can randomly get me into the next round of the Goodreads awards maybe your collective finger-crossing can give me what I need to make the magic happen. We can only hope.

OK. This isn’t so long, but I have one more post to write today before I finish my day, and I have lots to say in that one, too, so if I say too much HERE, I’m going to run short on WORDS. That could be CATASTROPHIC. An Amy without words? What would happen? It’d be like a bird without song! A Dumbcat without running into walls with his brain-area!

Happy Tuesday, everyone. I love your faces. Thank you for continuing to be the best people I know, and for being MY people. I have people. The best people. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.


Vote Jack the Ripper for a Better America!

I’ve been saving some most-excellent news stories that we have to discuss but I haven’t had the time to talk about. I KNOW! SO BUSY! What with the punctuation and the stats and such. So many things going on here, whoo! Today, for example, I had to go to the doctor. But I forgot I had to go to the doctor this morning so I forgot to go to bed in a timely fashion last night so I am SO SO TIRED today. Blergh. I had to go to the doctor because all my prescriptions were running out and the doctor apparently needed to add to her vacation fund so she wanted to see me instead of just refilling them over the phone like she usually does. I’m not really sure what function this served other than I had to say “yep” a lot. “Yep, I’m still taking the migraine medication.” “Yep, I still have trouble sleeping unless I take medication to help me fall asleep.” “Yep, I still have crazy allergies.” Why I couldn’t just say these things over the phone is kind of a mystery. I long-ago decided that the whole visiting-the-doctor thing was a scam to make money. I’m the most jaded, aren’t I?  Well, mostly I’m broke so I don’t want to have to pay the doctor for something she could do for free over the phone. Anyway, I got a NEW sleeping pill which is supposed to be MAGIC KITTEN RAINBOWS so let’s see what happens. Maybe I will sleep for SIXTEEN YEARS! That’d be nice. (SIDE NOTE! She tried to give me Ambien and I’m totally freaked out by Ambien. Isn’t that the sleep-murdering drug? I don’t want to sleep-murder anyone. So I was all, um, let’s put a kibosh on the Ambien idea, what else ya got? Turns out, she had lots of other options. Apparently, no one can sleep, if we go by all the different sleeping pills in the world. Also, isn’t Ambien the giant-green-moth sleeping pill from the commercial? Oh, shit, no, I think that’s Lunesta. Either way, I don’t want to sleep-murder or see giant green moths.)

Get up offa me, moth.

Anyway, today, we are talking about something that will freak out the fellas, and how if you want to be president, you need to be a psychopath, and how (sigh, AGAIN) people are being idiots about Facebook.

First: PSYCHOPATH PRESIDENTS!

Apparently, presidents and psychopaths are QUITE SIMILAR. This probably surprises no one. I like that science backs this up.

Psychopaths have a bunch of traits (like “criminal versatility” and “parasitic lifestyle” and “glibness”) and through MUCH SCIENCE, sciency science types have discovered that the most successful presidents share a trait with psychopaths: fearless dominance.

Fearlessly dominant!

What is fearless dominance, according to the sciency types?

“An easy way to think about it is as a combination of physical and social fearlessness,” says Scott Lilienfeld, lead author of the study and professor of psychology at Emory University. “People high in boldness don’t have a lot of apprehension about either physical or social things that would scare the rest of us.”

He adds, “It’s often a kind of resilience because you don’t show lot of anxiety or frustration in the face of everyday life challenges.”

This trait helps presidents deal with big things like terrorist attacks and smaller things like public speaking. It’s the same trait that helps psychopaths ignore others’ feelings and negative consequences and do things all weirdly impulsive-like.

According to this study, the presidents that tested highest on this scale were JFK, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Reagan, and Clinton. Aw! Bill! Not you, Bill! NOT YOU!

Not my Bill! Aw, Bill.

SO! When you are voting in November, I guess you want to vote for the candidate who’s most like John Wayne Gacy because he would be most successful? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that. Wouldn’t someone who has psychopathic tendencies need to be good at hiding them? So if you KNEW the person was a psychopath, they obviously wouldn’t be a very good psychopath. So I’m going to say vote for the person who seems LEAST like a psychopath. In this case, VOTE FOR OBAMA. (No, seriously, vote for Obama. You saw the “47% of Americans are lazy slackers” Romney quote, right? And the “why can’t I open the windows on an airplane?” quote? And the fact that in order to talk to a Hispanic audience, he put on gobs of self-tanner and went out in brownface so he would be easier to relate to? THIS MAN IS OUT OF HIS EVERLOVING MIND.)

Oh, yes. Very relatable. Not at all offensive. Nice. Oompa-loompa-doompety-doo.

OK, moving on from psychopaths, we have people who are very stupid about Facebook.

OK, I’m sure you’ve all heard about people who got fired because of Facebooking, right? Like, people who will friend their boss, call in sick, then post photos of themselves getting super-drunk when they’re supposed to be home with soup and tissues? (There are also people who get fired for Facebooking and I don’t think they should have – like I read about a teacher who was on vacation, had a photo of herself at a table with a bottle of beer in front of her on the table put up on Facebook, and the district let her go. That can’t possibly be legal. How can they even prove that was her beer? And she wasn’t even drinking it? I feel like this might be a falsehood.)

What? What’d I do? HELP HELP I’M BEING OPPRESSED.

But apparently there are some people who don’t understand that once you post something on the internet, it’s on the internet, even if you post it “friends only.” Here, I will give you a quick tutorial. Even if you have all of your settings locked down on Facebook and it’s friends-only, if you post something, your friends can share that with anyone they want. Who can, in turn, share that with anyone they want. It isn’t locked down. Once it’s posted, it’s out of your control. If you don’t want people to see something – DON’T POST IT ON FACEBOOK. Use a little discretion and common-sense.

Apparently, a gangstaaaaa in New York City was talking about the thug life, yo on Facebook. But he thought he was being all circumspect and marked the more sensitive posts, like the ones with drugs and murder references, “friends only.” But apparently the FBI is allowed to talk to your friends and ask your friends to share your posts with them, and your friends can do that. So the gangsta’s friends shared the info with the po-po (well, the Feds, I guess, what’s that, the fe-fe?) and now the guy’s going on trial for gangsta-ism.

So, we could argue for a while whether or not this guy’s friends were assholes (or, like a lot of people, he just randomly friended pretty much everyone – WHY DO PEOPLE DO THIS?!) or if they were upstanding citizens who wanted to help make the world a better place, but that’s not really the point. The point is that this guy thought he was being secretive and he was just being a jackass.

Rule of thumb: if it’s illegal, don’t post it on Facebook. If it’s potentially embarrassing to someone (yourself, others, whatever) think about it before posting it. Yes, yes. Your profile is marked private. But once it’s out there, your friends can share that with anyone, jellybeans. Use your thinker for thinking thoughts.

Finally: this one’s going to make you cringe, fellas. Sorry.

I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that science has discovered a way to perhaps extend your lifespan so it is equal to a woman’s lifespan! The bad news is that the way to go about it is…well…maybe not something you’d be willing to do.

Researchers in Korea discovered that, after studying the genealogical records of the Chosun dynasty, eunuchs tended to live almost 20 years longer than intact males.

Lord Varys is very pleased with this development.

Yep. Eunuchs. So, in order to earn another twenty years, all you have to do is undergo castration. What do you think, guys? Worth it? Good tradeoff?

Now, before you’re all “that’s because eunuchs lived this totally sheltered and cushy life!” the sciency types are onto you and compared the eunuchs to other men who lived a similar lifestyle. Don’t mess with the sciency types. They know what they’re doing.

I guess this leads the sciency-types to believe that male sex hormones may be to blame for men’s shorter lifespans.

I don’t know that I know too many men that would give up the fellas for a chance to live another couple of decades. But maybe the men I know are all obsessed with their man-junk, I don’t know. I suppose some men have to do this when they get testicular cancer, right?So what’s the thought, men-readers? If you were promised another 20 years on your life, would you become a eunuch? I’m honestly curious about the outcome of this one.

This is a real eunuch. He seems shocked by what’s befallen him.

ALL THE NEWS! OK, off to toil away at the night shift. It’s late-shift week this week for Amy. All the late-night crazies are all mine! All for me! I’ll let you all have some if you want them. I’m not greedy. Happy day, all!


Knitting up the raveled sleeve of care. Plus: THE BEST NEWS. ZOMG. With extra Z!

Day off TODAY, too! ZOMG, it’s like a whole WEEKEND happened! I have to go to bed early tonight, though. Early shift the next two days. Which means I get out early – that’s nice – but I’m so not an early morning person. I yawn and yawn and YAWN for like the first two hours. I’m really not at all meant to get up before 8. Or maybe 9. It’s kind of a thing with me.

Speaking of which: ok, so for the past…um, let’s see…twenty-five years of my life? I’ve survived on 4-6 hours of sleep a night. “Survived” being the operative word here. It’s not something I chose. It’s just the way my stupid brain works. For a while, I wasn’t even getting the 4-6 hours. First I tried to fix it with melatonin, because that’s what people said to do. What people? I don’t know, shit, PEOPLE. Boy, you’re questiony. Melatonin worked for a little while but then I had to keep upping and upping and UPPING the dosage until I realized I was taking like a billion times the recommended dosage so I was like, this can’t be good, I think I might be poisoning my gallbladder or something.

Recommended dosage: 1 pill. I was taking like 6 or 7. Probably best I stopped.

So then I tried Benedryl for a while but that just gave me a couple of hours of sleep a night and then I’d wake up all dried up because Benedryl is for allergies and I didn’t HAVE allergies and so therefore it was making me all dry and my nose started bleeding so that really wasn’t handy.

These are not a good long-term solution. Short-term, sure. Long-term, nope.

Then I went to the doctor and I was all, “hey. HEY. I think I might die because I haven’t slept in a VERY VERY LONG TIME.” And she gave me some pills and I’ve been taking them for about ten years now and they work. They’re not GREAT, but they work. One of my other doctors told me to ask for something else the next time I see my GP because what I’m taking isn’t really recommended for sleep or for human consumption anymore, so maybe I will. ANYWAY, that’s not the point of this narrative. Like I’ve ever stuck to the point of a narrative, ever. Sigh.

So remember I got fired and I wasn’t working or doing…well…hell, much of anything for a while? So I had nothing to do but sleep. And I thought, well, there’s no way I WILL sleep. But I did. And whether it was depression or boredom or my screwed-up brain, I started getting some of the best sleep I’ve ever gotten in my life. 8-9 hours. Straight. Without waking up once. Deep and waking up all refreshed with the most tremendous bedhead and feeling like I was really refreshed, and not just like I closed my eyes one minute and opened them the next and hadn’t slept at all. So I thought, huh, THIS is interesting. But it’ll stop once I start working again.

Like a BABY, I’m sleeping. Like a damn BABY.

BUT IT HAS NOT STOPPED, YOU GUYS. I’ve been working these crazy hours at my part-time job, and as long as I make sure I get to bed early enough to give myself the 8-9 hours I need? I CAN STILL SLEEP THE WHOLE TIME. I’m getting SO MUCH SLEEP. Is it depression? Is it just a change in life, like hormones or something? Is it the stress of the last job is gone? I don’t know. I don’t know if I actually want to question it that much, to be honest. It is FANTASTIC. I can’t even explain. Unless you’ve dealt with insomnia, you probably won’t be able to relate. It’s like a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. It’s like being able to breathe again when you weren’t able to before.  It’s like having this extra well of strength to draw from. IT IS SO AMAZING I CAN’T EVEN. So I’ve gotten better at not staying up late effing around on the internet when I know I can get to bed and will actually get a full night’s sleep. Like a grownup! Like a real, real grownup! Sleep, I will never curse you or screw around with you again. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH PLEASE DON’T EVER LEAVE ME.

It is true! I might love this “sleep” thing I’ve only heard tell of in the past more than ALL THE PORK-RELATED MEATS.

And, NOW, it’s that time…SHARING THE GOOD NEWS TIME! A while back, I alluded to some good news that might or might not happen. Then I never told you about it. That’s not because I forgot about it, it’s because I was waiting to hear. Well, I got the news today, so I can FINALLY pass it along. And it’s good. It’s super-good.

So, quick, pop-quiz! What are two of my most favorite things in the world? NO, not PEOPLE. THINGS.

If you guessed “writing” and “theater” you are CORRECT. If you additionally guessed “passing judgment on things” you are TRIPLE correct and get extra credit.

About a month ago, I got a call from a theater friend of mine. She’s a theater reviewer for one of our local papers, and she’s looking to retire in the next month or so. “So, what do you think, Amy, want to be a theater reviewer?” she said.

DO I WANT TO BE A THEATER REVIEWER? Um. Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you.

ME ME ME I’m gonna be a reviewer ME ME ME!!!

I get free tickets; I get paid to write something a fraction of the length of one of these posts; I get published both in print and online. And, in “things that would have made wee Amy so happy she would have done a happy dance” – YOU GUYS YOU GUYS I’M GOING TO BE WRITING FOR THE PAPER. Yes, just every now and then, a few times a month, when I get a gig, but still. I’m going to be doing something I’ve wanted to do since I knew it was a thing people did for a living. Both writing for the paper and REVIEWING things for the paper. These are both things I have always wanted to do. And they’re things I will be good at. I know I will. (No, don’t worry. The reviews will not be as long as my blog posts, nor will they have ZOMGs in them, or ALL-CAPS. I have to be PROFESSIONAL and ADULT in my reviews. And I can totally do that if they’re paying me to be. What? I can.)

Whenever I have to do grownup things I feel like I’m playing dressup. TRUE STORY.

I got my first gig last night, which will be in mid-October. I’m going to be slowly worked into the schedule over the next month or so. (There are two other reviewers over there so the three of us do all the reviews in the area.) I get to TRAVEL! Some of the reviews are in MASSACHUSETTS! I’ve never BEEN to Massachusetts! And, on top of the awesomeness of FREE THEATER TICKETS, I get PAID TO WRITE. What’s my ultimate dream in life? To live from my writing. I mean, I’m not really DOING anything to WORK toward that goal (I know, I’m like the most passive dreamer ever) but this is a step in the right direction. No, it’s not enough money to live from…but it’s enough money that, once I get a full-time job again, things will be more comfortable chez moi. And Dumbcat! Chez moi et chez Stupidechat.

Un chat c’est très stupide! Et très enjoué!

Getting paid to do something I love doing? That’s a move in the right direction. I couldn’t be more excited. I’m completely over the moon. I’d love to tell you all you could read the reviews, once they come out – and, well, technically, you can, but you’ll have to pay. I know! It is le suck. The paper is subscription only online. It costs $1 to read each article. So yes! You can read what I’m doing over there. But it would cost you $1. So that’s your call. (I’d post ’em here but what if they found out and fired me? I’m not doing ANYTHING to risk this job. I’d clean the floors of a newspaper building with my TONGUE for the opportunity to work there. Not even kidding you.)

Hmm. A worrisome thing I found is this.

Anyway, there’s my news. It’s not a job, well, not a full-time job, anyway, but it’s just about the most exciting thing to happen in Amy-town in a very long time. I’m ecstatic. So much thanks to my friend C., who thought of me for the job. I just want to hug her until her head pops off. NOT REALLY! No murdering of friends.

OK. I’ve been writing this for hours. Off I go! Happy days, all. I’m working mega-hours over the next few days so I’ll be around, but not much. Behave! As much as you can! If not, at least have fun!


You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.

I’m writing a little teeny bit of this now, then it’s off-to-work time, then the rest when I get home, then it’s off to bed for me. I know, it’s hard not to be jealous of my fancy-fancy life. Try not to be, though. Jealousy really will do you no good, and cause early-onset wrinkles. And who wants those, really? No one. Well, maybe some people like wrinkles, I don’t know. (SIDE NOTE! I strangely have no wrinkles yet, even though I’m getting old. Once, I was getting stage makeup done by a professional stage-makeup guy and he taught me a trick. When you’re doing stage makeup and want to age someone, the trick is to have that person make exaggerated faces. Big surprise, big sad, big mad. Things like that. And the wrinkles that causes – in your forehead, cheeks, the corners of your mouth and eyes, etc. – those are where your wrinkles will fall when you’re old. So that’s where the stage makeup guy puts the lines, because it’s more natural to go with where you’ll actually have wrinkles when you’re old. It looks more natural with your face.

I found this online labeled “old age.” Um. I don’t…this isn’t…don’t do this.

So, when professional makeup guy was aging me up to play an old lady with dementia – one of my favorite roles in the history of ever, I had so much fun with that one – he had me make big happy face, big mad face, all the faces, and then he was all, WTF? because I had NO WRINKLES AT ALL. And he was like, Amy! When you get old, you might be unwrinkled! You will never age! And it is TRUE. I look a good ten years younger than I am. I told someone how old I was a couple months ago and he laughed at me. “Yeah, right,” he said. I was all, “Um, no, seriously? I am? Why, how old did you think I was?” and he was like, “I don’t know, 25?” Hee! TWENTY-FIVE! Aw, how sweet is that? So when I am an old lady wearing purple and chasing children away from me with my cane and hoarding all the cats, I will look like I’m 50. That’ll be nice!)

Me when I am old! Only, I will look younger than this! Still with the crazy hair, though. I’m already working on that.

That was a very long side-note, even for me. I have to leave for work in half an hour. Blergh.

OK, I am home. What a long day. It wasn’t busy, so it seemed longer. And I’ve been frigging around on the interwebs for hours and I REALLY should be writing but I DIDN’T WANNA. I’m filled with laziness. Dumbcat’s all curled up sleeping next to me and I want to be curled up sleeping next to a human, too. Where’s MY human? Sometimes I think about how nice it would be to have a human to curl up next to and I think, I WANT THAT NOW PLEASE. Then someone tells me a bad thing about relationships like how sometimes their boyfriend eats all the cereal or flirts with their friends or something and then I think, eh, this’ll do me fine, I have low tolerance for nonsense. Also other people in my bed sometimes touch me when I’m trying to sleep, and then that wakes me up, and I can’t EVER fall back to sleep. Plus I wake up with one of those gaspy startly sounds like half an underwater scream and you know no one would ever let me live that down.

Aw, look, even Grover gets startled awake. I don’t feel so bad. Thanks, Grover!

This is a big week coming up! Many things going on. Running auditions for our next show; a couple of appointments here and there; working the box office for our current show; and of course more and more and more work. Can’t forget the work! Lots and lots of work. And laundry and grocery shopping and job-applying and blogging and all the day-to-day things that a person does. Oh, some sleeping. Let’s also do some sleeping. Which I should be doing now because it is PAST MIDNIGHT and if my mom was here, she would say “you are going to turn into a pumpkin.” That’s a thing my mom says. “You’re going to turn into a pumpkin,” if you stay up past midnight. I think because she hasn’t stayed up past midnight in…um…ever? She goes to bed at 9pm every night. So she can get up at 5am. And she wakes up SMILING. She is very grimly cheerful, that woman. SHE DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR BAD MOODS.

I found this and the fact that it exists is a little worrisome, internet.

Oh! Hey, Lucy’s Football has won an award! Or two awards all rolled into one! But you know how I am about awards. Bad. Shitty and bad. So, let’s just talk about the awards for a moment but not do any of the things that mean I’ve accepted the awards. Like an asshole. Like an award-refusing asshole.

So Unconfirmed Bachelorette has given me the “Inspiring Blog Award” and the “One Lovely Blog Award” and she said that we (and of course by we I mean I because it’s classy as shit to talk about oneself in the plural like a weirdo) inspire and amuse over here which is very nice. I don’t think this post does either, mostly because I’m super-exhausted, but it’s a nice thing to say and much appreciated. In order to claim the award you have to say seven things about yourself and you have to nominate fifteen more bloggers and I’m not going to do that, because you know the drill – I don’t think there are seven things about myself you don’t already know, and I don’t want to a., choose fifteen people and make them hate me for choosing them because sometimes people hate getting awards, and b., I don’t want to choose fifteen people and have someone I left out be all WHY NOT ME and then I’d be unable to sleep for a week and it’d be high school all over again and I’m too old for that, I really am. SO! Even though I cannot accept the award, like I cannot accept any awards because I have an inner set of rules and regulations that, like the Princess Bride’s heart, are a secret garden and the walls are very high (that is from the BOOK, don’t get all THAT’S NOT IN THE MOVIE!!! with me, I’ll poke you in the nose) I do (and always do!) appreciate the gesture. Thank you, Unconfirmed Bachelorette!

OK. Time to get off to whatever’s next in the land of Amy. Happy day to you all! Well, except you, Ding Dong Joe. Not you.


%d bloggers like this: