It doesn’t take long before the grind of another week gets the better of you. And the irony is, I’ve just had a long weekend – yet I am in no better shape than before going nowhere to my one day vacation. I must say it was fun while it lasted but today brought home just how tired I am. It perhaps doesn’t help when the start of the working week is met with a sleepless night. I just don’t know what it is about Sunday’s that produces this inability to sleep. It’s extraordinary, all day I’ve been battling to keep my eyes open, however once I get home I have this resurgence of energy – rarely is the day that upon returning from a days toil do I find a droop in energy, it is quite the opposite. Right now my mind is more lucid and clear than it has any right to be and I’m beginning to fear that tomorrow is going to be even more challenging.

The problem is that I want my cake and to eat it also. It’s been a long standing fantasy of mine that sleep is one of life’s little nuisances and I ought to be able to go into extended durations of alertness without consequence and as much as I wish it to be, it just doesn’t work out the way I desire it to be. You may well wonder what is so great about staying awake and I haven’t a good answer. Sleep just seems like a waste of time and lets face it, time is a limited commodity in the world of work and commute. Although days like today remind me that I am still grounded by the laws of nature and in her infinite wisdom she has decried that all mammals must rest.

So why is that it’s 11:20pm and I’m manic when I ought to be fast asleep catching up on the sleep I lost to last night’s pixies? Over tiredness comes to mind. Stubbornness is another. I just don’t give myself time to unwind and I purposefully try and cheat sleep for no good reason. Maybe I’m a masochist and punish myself for being a bad little boy. Don’t know but I do suffer because of my pig headedness in trying to fulfil an unobtainable desire.

But there is some method to my madness. If I sought to get my eight hours sleep then I’d have to be up at around 7am to get to work at 8:30am,  so be in bed by 11pm. I’d then leave work at 5pm on a good day and be home at 6pm.  Get changed and stuff around, 6:30pm. Work out what dinner I should cook and then cook and if I was efficient it’ll be 7:30 when I eat. Wash up, again if I was efficient I’ll have it all done by 8pm. Then three hours to muck around with me time. Ok it isn’t so bad, but I can’t see myself getting tired for the 11pm shut eye deadline, so how do I train myself to get tired by then? That is going to take a concerted effort and more than a little discipline to formulate a regimented early start, everyday – no sleeping in on weekends, routine. And a definite cutting back on caffeine. Oh NO!!!  Will I do this or even attempt it? Probably not. I’m too set in my ways. So looks like no sleep till Friday…Ah well at least I know what I’m in for and certainty in such uncertain times has got to count for something? Well at least I can delude myself with this small solace.

As it says, presumably buried deep within the Bible, “No rest for the wicked” and so it is for this wicked soul. My apologies for the ignorance I exhibit to sacred texts but never fear coz Wikipedia is here which has confirmed the origin of the aforementioned quote as The Book of Isaiah. Although the Bible is oftentimes praised for its poetic and beautiful verse, I admittedly find it somewhat tedious to read and for the most part, my aesthetic is too base to find admiration in a series of books that speak in colourful language to articulate the meaning of existence. That is ostensibly defined as the glorification of God. Well that is the impression I get from Bible Bashers and from my limited knowledge of religious matters.

It has been pointed out to me from the most unlikely figures that the Bible is fundamental reading in order to appreciate some of histories great literary figures, like Shakespeare, whom I’m lead to believe, sources Biblical texts in many of his plays. I’m fond of some classical literature but I seem to have an aversion to Shakespeare, perhaps because I have shady memories from High School where we attempted to de-construct and analyse a couple of his plays, Othello was one and I also recall Macbeth, but it all flew over my head. Interest in poetry was pretty non existent at the time and even today it isn’t too appealing. Having to decipher Old-English and to then decrypt metaphorical speech into some contemporary point of reference is too hard for a simple and feeble minded person such as myself. Perhaps I could go back now to acquaint myself with such great literary heritage, now that I have a better grasp on language, however care factor is essentially zero and I have more pressing matters that need fulfilling. It isn’t to say that I wouldn’t mind possessing greater awareness of cultural heritage but it is something that requires extensive research and study to make gains, a big call in these times of idle distraction and the fast pace to nowhere we seem driven by. The best I can do is the occasional reading of poetry I find compelling and pleasurable, The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge is a favourite and the beauty of it is that Iron Maiden has a cut down version of this lyrical beast, set to music – I recommend having a listen if you are metallurgically minded. I was also directed to Faces In The Street by Henry Lawson when I was doing a short course in creative writing as something that would be up my alley. I found Faces In The Street chilling, provoking a profound sense of sorrow but the lecturer was right, I did find it fitting to my aesthetic. Perhaps one day in retirement the classical aesthetic will draw me into examining the gifts to be garnished from the masters of yesteryear.

Anyways more to the point, my weekly dose of insomnia has been fulfilled and I have no real idea if my wickedness has been attoned for by the sleepless angel keeping watch over my weary body but I sure could use some sleep regardless.

My worst fears were validated in the Sydney Morning Herald (I gotta stop reading the newspaper) in an article entitled Happiness is … sleep, about funnily enough, sleep as the path to happiness. I can vouch for this hypothesis – I am constantly evading the Sandman and his stardust, and as a consequence I find myself unhappy, so it is obvious and pretty much self evident that the inverse must be true. However, sleep is one of those elusive things that is so hard to fit in to get enough of. As much as I’d love to spend my life in a cycle of just sleeping and working, it just doesn’t seem to work out for me. The problem is, I think, that my working life is so lacking in intellectual stimulation that I find myself or my head at least, yearning for some kind of fulfilment and in an effort to fill the un-fillable it seeks by way of an omnivorous appetite to devour information in an effort to obtain sustenance and meaning – even if at the cost of happiness and physical health.

Sleep does appear to have detrimental affects on metabolism and I pay the cost in more ways than just extreme bouts of fatigue – I crave sugar and junk food constantly to feed my body in its bio-rythmic shock. Although admittedly after some period of sustained self induced sleep deprivation my body revolts and forces me to get enough rest – like last night. I felt pretty good today and it has been a very long time since I’ve been almost enthusiastic about my day. I want too much, I can’t have alertness and semi contentedness while also wanting more time. That damned Sandman always demands the debt be paid in one way or another. I heard, I think on one of the Radio National – All in the mind podcasts that some very intelligent individuals in scientific circles are indulging in cognitive enhancing drugs, which some, like Ritalin allow for prolonged wakefulness. Yet others can enhance memory, so increasingly these types of drugs are being abused by the intellectual elite, university students and perhaps even secondary schooler’s to enhance performance, much in the same way as athletes use drugs to gain an edge.

I’m far removed from such elitism but I can definitely understand why some would want to use these substances to allow increased cognition over greater periods of time. Some would probably be outraged if they learned that some leading intellectual was partaking in a little boost but it doesn’t phase me in the least – hell I’d even be inclined to use them if I were in another time and place but the strongest drug I’m willing to indulge in right now is caffeine and nicotine. Not brainstorming chemicals but they will have to do for this tripper. But sleep may probably be the best cognitive enhancer I have at my disposal – too bad I don’t use this little helper more often but my livelihood doesn’t exactly require too much exertion on my old noggin.

CSF

If I were a renowned psychiatrist or chemist working for some multinational pharmaceutical corporation I could patent a new syndrome to add to the marketable diseases found on the shelf of any good Doctor’s surgery or on a poster at your local pharmacy. This new disease is what I coin as Chronic Sameness Fatigue (CSF). I believe such a disease exists and is prevalent – it generally manifests as a nodding off at work while doing the same thing over and over. Repetition depleting the soul of meaningful cause to remain alert. The ad campaign could be overheard on television…”Are you fatigued and tired. Do you suffer from a lack of concentration? Do your eyelids droop at the prospect of another 4 hours at your desk? Then you may be suffering Chronic Sameness Fatigue. Please consult your doctor for more information. There is help.”

Of course the cure will be repackaged drugs from yore – namely meth amphetamine – the old Black Beauty will resurface and a whole new generation will be feeling tweaked at their computer desks, geared up and ready to go. Chronic Sameness Fatigue will be a thing of the past, although the murder rate will invariably increase after office tweakers fall into drug induced psychosis but that will be for another ad campaign and a revival of Largactil and for the hip – Zyprexa. The Largactil shuffle will be a hit dance club anthem to drool and shuffle about to, on the dance floor.

Bring on the goey and cognitive enhancers 😉