I haven’t slept in ten days.
Okay, okay… that’s a tad dramatic. I have slept – just not much. (And definitely not as much as I’m used to.) After starting a program to get certified as a physical therapist assistant, my life’s been insane. Every conscious moment’s spent sucking information into my brain organ as fast as I can. (That or panicking about something I should be studying.) Thus, by the time I hit the mattress, I’m all keyed up with bones and muscles floating through my mind, that I’m deprived from the sweet, sweet release of sleep that I so desire. So, I tried to turn to my own advice, from here, on Tyrd.
And, taking a volume off the shelf of my own soporific library, I came across the old tried and true:
“Slip into your nocturnal nook with a good book.”
(Spoiler alert: if your book’s this good, it’s gonna be bad as a literary lullaby)
So, I did. I tried ‘em all. From the reads about serenity and peace to morbid old Edgar Allen Poe, I exhausted all my options. Alas, nada worked. Even the hilarious likes of Russell Brand failed as literary Lunesta. Instead, each new genre I tried had me even more amped than the last. I didn’t get it. What was I doing wrong? Well, according to the pros, I hadn’t tried them all. Not actually. See, I’d gone from spiritually quenching to classically thrilling. Then I ventured into adventures and even a bit’ve poetry. But ya know what I’d managed to skip over completely?
Being bored to tears.
And that’s exactly what the experts of all things rest recommend. When I heard this suggestion today, I was overcome with a cliché “aha” moment. I knew what I had to do. My brain immediately rewinded to 8 A.M. lecture. (The one where I literally, not exaggerating for once, almost fell out of my chair before a hypnic jerk yanked me awake.) Why couldn’t I have been that tired at 9 last night? Or 10? Or 12 A.M.?
(Or literally any time that allowed me at least fifteen minutes of sleep before 3:30 A.M.?)
It’ll be an eternal mystery. But what’s not is the fact that – had the lecture been on wounds so bad that you can see the bones (like it’d been the day before) – I would’ve been wide awake. Projectile retching at my classmates, mind you, but wide awake nonetheless. Which is all why the advice for nodding off is to bring a “Ulysses” level brain wearying read to bed with you, and let it bore you unawake.
In sum, slumber’s just one uninteresting article of literature away.
Which means it looks like I finally found my solution:
Tonight, l’m gonna slip between my sheets with sheets of Anatomy notes.