On missing the end of the show (because I fell asleep)

Have you ever woken up to find you had missed the end of the movie or show? Not that it happens often, but sometimes a long day can take its toll on my ability to focus and stay awake. You don’t even know it, really, until it happens: All of a sudden you are looking at and listening to other characters doing other things and you are wondering what happened to the show you were watching. Perhaps I’ve seen way too much television, perhaps I can predict almost any plot twist possible, perhaps I need my sleep more than I need to watch another police procedural show. Yet, it makes me mad to miss the end of the show–I want to find out who did it. It makes me mad that I couldn’t stay awake long enough to make it to the end of an hour show. By falling asleep I am reconfirming that most television is only sleep-worthy and that we are all wasting our time with most of what’s on the tube. By falling asleep, I am reconfirming that I don’t sleep enough at night, and I need to change my sleep habits. By missing the end of the show my subconscious is suggesting that most television is not worth watching and that my time would be better invested in sleeping. I fall asleep and miss the end of the show, waking up with a sore neck, a hazy sense of reality, and a lost hour or so. It takes a little while to get one’s bearings when coming up out of the black hole of sleep. So I miss the end of the show, no problem, it won’t be a rerun for me in three months when I see it again.

On fatigue

(This will be short for obvious reasons) Have you ever felt so bone-crunchingly tired that it didn’t matter anymore if you rested or not? Didn’t matter anymore if you drank six cups of coffee or none at all? I think I’ve arrived, but I can’t tell and I don’t care. There is a winter storm on the horizon and I don’t care. I should go to bed and get some sleep but I don’t care about that either. I get the feeling that the semester was just one week too long, or maybe the Thanksgiving break was a couple of days too short. Today, it seemed like I ran from one thing to another, and this was my quiet day. Tomorrow will be worse with an early meeting and two classes to teach. And it isn’t even a physical fatigue that bothers as much as the mental fatigue that hangs over me like a cold, wet blanket. If I have to write another official whatever, I may just scream, or worse, I won’t say anything at all. Mental fatigue is the real villain in this folktale. I like the Christmas season, but it seems like so many things pile up during these first two weeks of December that I end up hating December anyway. It’s not that I feel out-of-control, but it does feel like I would have to make a huge effort to reach “out-of-control.” And tomorrow is only Thursday–where’s the weekend? On the other hand, what has already happened to my week? I had all sorts of good intentions when Monday started. I’m too tired to figure any of this out, and I imagine, dear reader, that you are too tired to read any further.

On fatigue

(This will be short for obvious reasons) Have you ever felt so bone-crunchingly tired that it didn’t matter anymore if you rested or not? Didn’t matter anymore if you drank six cups of coffee or none at all? I think I’ve arrived, but I can’t tell and I don’t care. There is a winter storm on the horizon and I don’t care. I should go to bed and get some sleep but I don’t care about that either. I get the feeling that the semester was just one week too long, or maybe the Thanksgiving break was a couple of days too short. Today, it seemed like I ran from one thing to another, and this was my quiet day. Tomorrow will be worse with an early meeting and two classes to teach. And it isn’t even a physical fatigue that bothers as much as the mental fatigue that hangs over me like a cold, wet blanket. If I have to write another official whatever, I may just scream, or worse, I won’t say anything at all. Mental fatigue is the real villain in this folktale. I like the Christmas season, but it seems like so many things pile up during these first two weeks of December that I end up hating December anyway. It’s not that I feel out-of-control, but it does feel like I would have to make a huge effort to reach “out-of-control.” And tomorrow is only Thursday–where’s the weekend? On the other hand, what has already happened to my week? I had all sorts of good intentions when Monday started. I’m too tired to figure any of this out, and I imagine, dear reader, that you are too tired to read any further.