Friday, June 24, 2005

at least i get to complain

I can’t sleep anymore. I snap awake at like 5 or 6 every morning, and I can’t fall back asleep. And before that I wake up every hour. I have shitty dreams-- never ones where I’m getting laid, even though I don’t masturbate very much anymore.

It fucks up my face. It makes my skin haggard and leathery. When I smile, I crinkle up like Luke Perry. It gives me dandruff... It makes me stupid, and angry. I like to think of myself as this kind of sharp, witty, snappy-comeback sort of person but this pall does away with that completely— I’m slow and surly and just sink into this miasma of quiet self-doubt...

And it’s one of those things of course where it’s just self-fueling anxiety—- thinking about how I can’t sleep makes me upset, which stops me from sleeping—- our minds love these evil little recursive loops. Goddamn miserable... And I wake up in the morning feeling that weight on my head, knowing that the all day, no matter what happens, I’ll be pissed off and morose. And every day will be like this.

I need drugs... I hear Ambien is good. But that would involve taking time to go to a doctor, which would have to be on a weekend... and I know my HMO is no fucking way going to deem it “medically necessary” for me to get sleeping pills; whatever bullshit doctor I picked at random out of their book is I’m sure, by virtue of his being a doctor to whom Blue Shield is willing to assign patients, not going to authorize anything. A fucking prescription could take care of this in two minutes but I know they can’t just do that; they’re going to drag me out there on a weekend for a visit (that also won’t turn out to have been “medically necessary”) and put me through this long interview asking about stress—and yes, I’m fucking stressed, I can’t fucking sleep—- and then they’re going to send me away for two weeks with some bogus new-age progressive-relaxation technique and then make me come back when that doesn’t work for another non-medically-necessary visit and JESUS FUCKING GOD, all I want is some fucking Ambien or something. Rich people can get it because they don’t like flying on fucking planes, for Christ’s sake--

Fuck fuck fuck... can’t write at work, but it’s just like this at home. I won’t be able to sleep this weekend either, and so I won’t be able to write anything for the blog; don’t have any good old material I can put up without revision that would require the utmost mental acuity to finesse the language... I will never be lucid again. Now I’m just another dumb fuck who’s pissed-offedness is no longer charming because there’s no incisive wit behind it. It strips me of my whole identity, my whole concept of myself as superior, which was already getting tenuous for very valid reasons of my own failure and loss of ability and now is very much crippled in the short term and in particular as well as in the long term and in general. See? What the fuck kind of sentence was that?

The face-- it makes me look old, which means everybody around me who knows that I work as somebody’s assistant for 11 goddamn motherfucking dollars per hour also now knows that I am somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-nine goddamn motherfucking years old, that I am a loser, and a failure, and I have completely shot my wad and should kill myself.

I can't be the only person for whom a mental picture of their crying mother is the only thing keeping them from suicide.


Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

You get only get 11 dollars per hour? Yeah, that would probably give me psoriasis, too.

10:09 PM  
Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

I was so shocked by the 11 dollar per hour poverty rate that I babbled out a non-sensical sentence. "You get only get..." That should be, "You get paid only..."

10:11 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

I know, dude, I'm the fucking working poor. I'm not kidding, my life really sucks.

1st-year gigs in the entertainment industry are all like this, though, unless your dad golfs with somebody important.

2:45 AM  
Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

I figured it was an entertainment industry job. This is what happens when an industry is controlled by people named Shlomo, Aron, and Goldy.

2:57 AM  
Blogger Julie said...

First of all, I get paid in bolivares you are a freaking Hilton compared to me. I earn what would translate into about $200 a month.

Second, Ambien is pretty good but addictive. When I was subbing and had a weird on off schedule, I had trouble getting sleep. My doc prescribed me 3 months of Ambien which was funny bc the directions warn you not to take it for more than a few weeks. Anyway I took it for 2 years. (hopefully this wont give me some weird mental problem later) It doesnt knock you out like you'd hope, but it keeps you asleep once you finally get there.

Now I take over the counter Simply Sleep (Tylenol) and try to read by a dimly lit halogen a half hour before bed. That helps. Also it helps to repeat the same thing over and over in your head like Leonardo Di Caprio in Aviator. I'll be like, "soft cotton soft cotton soft cotton soft cotton soft cotton soft cotton ...soft....*sleep*"

4:06 AM  
Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

So, Tim makes 11 bucks an hour, which works out to less than $23K per year, assuming a 40-hour work week. Julie makes approximately $2400 a year. So, combined, you guys make just over a whopping $25K. Damn, that Carnegie Mellon degree is sure looking mighty fine.

I, on the other hand, make $150,000 per year, not including bonus and not including online gambling earnings. I could buy and sell you two as my slaves several times over.

12:31 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

it's true; i'm poor.

and it sucks.

and what's more, it's my own fault. i am earning developing-world wages at this late stage in life because i fucked up, i fucked up *hard*, and i *kept* fucking up, despite many opportunities to pull my shit together. nobody beat me, nobody molested me... i just like to drink whiskey and do drugs a lot more than i like to go to class or go to work.

i hope you're playing online poker from your office computer and billing for all those hours.

10:30 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

Richard, do you provide benefits? Paid vacation? I could fetch you your newspaper and rub your feet.

4:42 AM  

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