The Daily Dump

A place where everyone (me) is welcomed to express their opinions openly and honestly. I encourage free thinking, free wheeling, off-the-cuff banter and monetary donations.

Thursday, July 20

100 Things About Me: #8

We’re almost there! All ten things about me, revealed!

(You know, in hindsight the idea of me devoting 100 posts to “things about me” is fucking hilarious. It’s like a little kid trying to understand how many dollars “a billion” is. And then all of a sudden it clicks when someone says something like, “With one billion dollars, you could buy twenty candy bars every minute for the rest of your life and not run out of money,” and they get this glassed over look on their face and their mouth falls open in awe. That’s what I just did when I checked back to see what number I was up to and realized it was 8. So I think for everyone’s sake, we’ll cap this thing at 10.)

#8 I hardly ever sleep.

And not by choice. It’s not like I am up 1:00 in the morning unable to tear myself away from “The Late, Late” show. I’m not at Starbucks five minutes before closing finishing off my sixth Venti latte, lining up to squeeze in my seventh. In fact, in my efforts to get a good night’s sleep I have even gone so far as to cut caffeine out of my diet completely. (Somewhere, my sister is scoffing.)

I have tried everything short of injecting warm milk into my neck, yet still, come about 4:00 in the morning, my body rebels against quietude and I lie there, awake and alert, but playing that game with myself where I refuse to look at the clock and refuse to even open my eyes because, you know, maybe I’ll trick myself into thinking I was never really awake and just fall back to sleep. (That has about as much success as this).

When that doesn’t work, I revert to a game of reverse psychology wherein I play on my mind’s innate hatred of waking up. Because everyone knows that the only thing that cures sleeplessness is having to literally get out of bed, like when the alarm clock finally goes off three hours later, for example. So I say, almost out loud and in a voice commonly used in bad sitcoms to denote “I know someone is hiding in the closet but they don’t know I know they’re hiding in the closet so I’m going to speak in some obviously elevated tone so as not to arouse their suspicion, “Ooook. I guess I’m going to get up now. No sense lying here any longer, I’m obviously not falling back to sleep. Gonna go start my day. Maybe even go jogging.” Despite the strong psychoanalytical foundation for the methodology, this, as well, has a high rate of failure.

The only good thing that comes from being awake against my will between the hours of 4:00 and 6:00 is that I get a lot of thinking done. In fact, this may be the only reason I awaken in the first place, because my mind has so much thinking it needs to get done that the 16 conscious hours I provide myself on a daily basis aren’t enough; there are simply too many ponderous facets to the world for a mere 16 hours.

Such as what awoke me shortly after 4:00 this morning:

It began as me convincing myself that I could be a speechwriter, a notion produced by my bitter reading of an article on John McCain in Esquire earlier in the day. I imagined writing a speech for a truly independent candidate, him standing up in the crowd bemoaning the partisanship that has plagued politics, calling out the hijacking of the Republican party by the supposed ethicists of the religious right, and finally setting everyone straight on what America needs to survive. That got boring after about five minutes, so I started thinking about other things I find wrong with America, and almost immediately I came up with the seesaw.

Another little known fact about me (hell, let’s go ahead and make it #9 on the list): I’ve always been afraid of seesaws. I don’t know if it stems back to a singular incident from my childhood, but I have vague, wispy memories of sitting on this plank of wood, nary a handle in sight, and feeling as though I could shoot off into a nearby concrete pillar at any moment. No sooner did my feet touch the ground and I felt safe did I go springing off again into the atmosphere, always with some enormous child on the other end laughing away because he knew in his soul that it would take a hell of a lot more than my 45lb frame to send him flying from his perch.

The way I see it, the seesaw, like politics, can be viewed as a balancing force between differing people. Of course you can only view it as such if you are an ignorant lunatic, embroiled in an all out war with reason. The seesaw is a power struggle. It is the playground’s equivalent of “Who has the nicer car?” or “Who can take home the Asian girl first?” It is a structureless game, shrouded in the guise of “fun through the cooperation of effortless non-competitiveness.” Lies. I’ve never been on a seesaw with someone who didn’t want the end result of our “fun” to be me eating sand. And maybe that means I rode the seesaw with a bunch of assholes, but like most power struggles (rich vs. poor, man vs. beast) the antagonism is inherent. If it wasn’t, I would have set a 45lb. chunk of granite on the other end of the seesaw, or at least the girl who walked funny because she had a problem with her legs. But I didn’t – because the evil grip of the seesaw is innate, and overwhelming.

Which is why, I concluded around 5:30, if I were a politician, I would outlaw seesaws. And these people.


First comment! I'm going to waste it by not actually commenting. Woot.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:46 PM  

i'll be perfectly honest with you. i come here every day to laugh. but every now and then you write one of these deep, intense missives ("...the seesaw, like politics, can be viewed as a balancing force between differing people.") and i leave, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, thinking, 'you complete me.'

here's to our future, mr. dump.

By Blogger ducklet, at 3:50 PM  

I know that your thinking time is precious, but maybe this will help you sleep: reading a book.
I suggest The Brothers Karamazov, or if you've read it, something equally wordy and complicated (something with a strong 13 score). Zzzzzz...

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:52 PM  

WHAT IS UP WITH GUYS AND ASIAN GIRLS?!?! I swear, as a boring white girl, I'm starting to develop a complex.

As for the whole sleep thing, I really hate that. I dread waking up to go to the bathroom because I know that I won't be able to fall asleep again. Not really asleep. Half-assedly asleep, yes. But the one thing I never want to do half-assed is sleep. Sadly, my body doesn't agree. And then I'm tired ALL day.

And you gave up iced coffee? I don't know that I buy that...

By Blogger Rebecca, at 3:54 PM  

I don't sleep as much as I used to. It's a sign that you're getting older. There's more crap (or dump in your case) to fret about.


By Blogger Momentary Academic, at 4:00 PM  

Ducky - I find something oddly affectionate in the nickname "Mr. Dump." I think it's the "mister."

Anon - I actually did read The Brothers Karamazov. And yes, I only responded to your comment to brag that I read The Brothers Karamazov.

Rebecca - We'll find you a man, don't worry. (And I get decaf iced coffee. Or as my friend James calls it, "What's the point?")

By Blogger the belligerent intellectual, at 4:03 PM  

Aww... thanks, Mr. Dump. Then we could have a whole tribute to you at our wedding... I'm picturing a photo montage, titled "How the Dump Changed Our Lives." I doubt, though, that my boyfriend would enjoy all that. He's already mad at me for pimping myself out on your blog.

And I agree with James. Decaf coffee is not coffee. It's colored sugar water.

By Blogger Rebecca, at 4:15 PM  

awesome. i am in love with this post.

By Blogger kat, at 4:17 PM  

what's worse--the seesaw or a game of tetherball...

atleast with a seesaw your injuries are restricted to your ass and lower extremeties (unless some kid managed to catapult you across the playground)

but the tetherball....i can't count how many times kids got hit in the face with those things...of course i'm not speaking from personal experience.

By Blogger dmbmeg, at 4:24 PM  

I broke a tooth on a seesaw in 2nd Grade. And no, I am not retarded.

Word verification: boows

By Blogger Cherry Ride, at 4:31 PM  

Hm, apparently I got distracted whilst perusing your archives and missed the other 7. If the poignant soul-bearing of this post is any indication, I should re-peruse, post haste.

(I went to bed at 1am and was awake at 5:30am, but I just watched what passes for music videos these days. Knocked me right out. After I got over the WTF factor.)

By Blogger Gemini Prefect, at 4:32 PM  

Wow, just revisited a total phobia of seesaws with this post. I remember my childish thought process: "It wouldn't be here if it wasn't safe, right? Grown ups monitor these things don't they? It only appears to be unsafe, you can't actually hurt yourself on a this piece of splintery wood that goes flailing through the air until confronted with the ground - play ground designers understand the idea that objects in motion should stay in motion, right? I mean I'm six and even I know that!?"

By Blogger Mood Indigo, at 4:56 PM  

I think I have "closet" insomnia- it's not something I am ready to own up to. If I don't have the tv on or Heather (that bitch) turns it off, I immediately wake up. But psychosomatically, I wake up at 4 and 6am every morning. It's why I always sleep late. Lately it's gotten worse- but I can't tell if it's because of the heat or the half naked girl sleeping next to me.

By Blogger Betty, at 5:03 PM  

You are so yummy.

By Blogger Jules, at 5:21 PM  

A see saw popped my cherry. Seriously. Are you understanding me?


I was 11.

So sad.

By Blogger Jenni, at 7:16 PM  

Hachi Machi

By Blogger [Disgrundled], at 8:02 PM  

Uh jenni... some things are better left unwritten- or unsaid- or unthought. Is unthought a word? Because I would like to unthought that I read that.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:47 PM  

The scary thing about a seesaw is that it requires two people to work in perfect unison, to trust each other, and to know each other's rhythm, very similar to the dangers of living with your girlfriend.

By Anonymous Neil, at 9:26 PM  

Absolutely funny! Liked the parallel between those jumpers and the seesaw. The seesaw story is deep but funny. I love your blog. Keeps me smilling!

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:59 PM  

I used to have an insomnia problem. But then I saw a psychic. She was the "entertainment" at a bridal shower (I know! Random!) and we had to ask her things...she wouldn't just say, "this is going to happen.." We had to be very specific. So I asked when I'd ever get to sleep again.
Soooo...I guess it turned out (according to the psychic - ) that my body was under the impression that if I fell asleep, I was going to die. Something about my soul being like a rose, and most peoples are red or blue, but mine was black.

(and a hush fell over the crowd - aren't bridal showers supposed to be fun?)

She did a little hocus-pocus, and I have never had the problem again. The whole thing was probably a bunch of total BS, but hey - it worked.

By Blogger Mollypalooza, at 12:24 AM  

I almost never sleep either. The good part is that I get to watch (and mock) the socially awkward on Blind Date and Elimidate at 3:30 and 4 am, respetively. The bad part is that I have no one to commiserate with because if I call someone at 4am and tell them "Turn on UPN, right now...seriously." They will stab me in the face the next time I see them on the street. TO be honest, if I could sleep like a normal person I would stab me in the face for calling myself at 4 am too. Wow, that almost makes sense.

By Blogger HomeImprovementNinja, at 9:44 AM  

oooooo! One time when I was little, my friend was on a seesaw at the park and someone hopped off the other end. She went slamming down on the ground and slid across it... it was a WOODEN one. She got the most hugest gigantic monstrous piece of wood wedged in the crack of her butt. We had to walk home with that thing and my mom had to dig it out.

I remember all of us (my sis and her sis included) hovering over her ass as mom spread her cheeks to dig that thing out with tweezers.

By Anonymous Kerry, at 9:57 AM  

Seesaw in your butt - that would hurt. Kind of like the time when I was about ten and playing in an open field that had been surveyed. There were these survey stakes in the ground, (kind of like huge wooden popsicle sticks) and one a kid fell onto it with all his weight and wedged it into his butt. Seriously. Sorry, BI, that I couldn't provide a serious, clever, or appropriate comment here, your post deserves more.

By Blogger Leezer, at 10:59 AM  

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

By Blogger TALK!, at 11:28 AM  

Sleep is definitely an elusive and evil tease.

I average about an hour and a half a night trying to get to sleep.

It doesn't matter if I turn the t.v. off at 9 p.m....take a warm bath...or down a fifth of whiskey...I have never experienced that oh-so-romantic notion of "falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow."

What a load of crap.

I choose to deal with this reality by convincing myself that my elevated intellect doesn't allow my brain to properly shut down at night, which, in turn, keeps me awake...unlike the dull, dim-witted, rested masses.

So, count yourself fortunate to be so highly evolved...or just take a swig of NyQuil...either'll be happier about the situation.


Oh...and see-saws...more evilness.

Nothing says fun like see-sawing with a kid who thinks it's funny to jump off while you're perched on high...just to see your butt hit the playground dust.

By Blogger TALK!, at 11:30 AM  

first of all, i guess no one with a blog sleeps? it must be a literary-english major thing.

and it's 'yogging'-- a soft J.

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By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:00 AM  

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