Sometimes I write deep meaningful posts. This, my friends, is not one of them.
Let me also mention that I don’t actually smoke pot. I hate pot. Always have. I tried it a few times in high school and college, but invariably found that it interfered in highly inconvenient ways with my drinking (mainly by making me vomit at random). I also don’t care if YOU smoke pot. There are worse things you could do. Like drink whiskey and drive, for example. Or hit people. Or wear Ed Hardy.
Anyhoo, lately I’ve been running around with Our Lady of Misery “Insomnia” and let me just say she can suck it. Kick rocks. Lick something. She comes around the second I rest my head on the pillow…and she stays. I tell her to get out. She ignores me (slut). I get serious, try to evict her with melatonin and aromatherapy and meditations and hot showers…and yet, she plants herself like a heinous growth at my bedside, terrorizing me. Smelly pirate hooker.
She pretty much always wins. For three weeks I didn’t get more than 3-4 hours of sleep a night.
On the plus side, however, the brilliant thought recently entered my mind that not sleeping feels a lot like being stoned all the time. And I thought I’d share these insights with you. No need to thank me. I’m naturally altruistic.
How insomnia is like weed:
- Weed makes me stupid. Insomnia makes me stupid. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a strange grey haze for weeks. Things are happening, and I’m seeing them, sort of, but I’m removed. There’s this cloud around everybody and everything that’s happening. A sense of being removed, distant, not quite THERE. By the way, I hated feeling stupid on weed and I hate it now. I don’t like being dumb. I like being smart (I also like being profound, obviously). I want to feel like the smartest person in the grocery store (whether or not I am is wholly irrelevant)…I like walking around JUDGING the asshats and idiots…not BEING the asshat and idiot.
- Weed makes me hungry. Insomnia makes me hungry. Emotional eating, anyone? Um, yeah. When you can’t sleep more than 3-4 hours a night and every day you wake up to a bunch of neurotic needy little people and 25,000 responsibilities you’ll never actually accomplish, I promise you’re gonna be eatin’ crap you shouldn’t. Out of laziness or comfort or just pure who gives a fuck?, the eatin’s gonna happen.
- Weed is illegal. Insomnia makes me want to do illegal things. Like shoot myself. Or my neighbor, for waking me up with his goddamned LEAF BLOWER (which, by the way, never cease to confuse me; they are universally problematic: what the hell is the point of a leaf blower? They just blow shit around. The leaves are comin’ back, homeslice. And this strange obsession of yours may cost you your life, dude. Forget it. This is big. I need to write a blog post about this.).
- Weed makes me giggle uncontrollably. Insomnia makes me giggle uncontrollably. Sometimes I get so insanely tired I start to just giggle and make weird noises and act like a goofy 11-year-old (even more so than usual) – like when you were at a sleepover at your friend’s house and you get so tired you get GOOFY and silly and stupid, and then you CRASH. Right. Just like that, only without the crashing part.
- Weed impairs sound judgment. Insomnia removes sound judgment. The other day I yelled at my husband for going to work. FOR GOING TO WORK. The injustice of it all. The end.
And then, of course, there’s the big one: Weed makes me useless. Insomnia makes me useless. I have sat down to write a blog post at least 10 times in the past 4 days, and each time I do, I just stare blankly at the screen. Stoned. Dumb. So tired my body aches and my eyes burn and my thoughts dart around like confused hummingbirds…starts and stops…lots of motion…no direction…no progress.
But check it out: last night I slept.
I knew this was just a phase, that Our Lady wouldn’t last long. But let me just say “bitch if you come back I’m calling my weed dealer.”
I hate weed.