Surrender In The Grass

I'm hittin' the Big Three in terms of my insomniac years. Oh, no...no, please...really, there's no need---alright, fine. Applaud if you will. Thank you, thank you. It's been a good run, I must say, and I'm still goin' strong! It's had its ups and downs, sure, sure, but who needs to dream, anyway? I mean, really. You think it's real, you're happy as can be, and then out of nowhere this annoying buzzing sound interrupts the three words you've been waiting for years to hear just as Basil From Baker Street is about to say them. Then it hits you what the buzzing sound is, at the same time it hits you that you will never hear those three words from Basil because one, it was all a dream, and two, neither cartoons nor mouse detectives, great ones, at that, even exist. What I have to say to dreams is exactly what little Madeline would say to the tiger: Poopoo.

There is also that moment when you have to except the fact that you will always look like you got punched in both eyes. But who needs beauty, anyway! It's not like looks will get you anywhere! You people out there who think you're better than all of us just because the bottoms of your eyelids don't look like they've been pulled down a couple inches and left there to hang need to STOP relying on the kindness of strangers and realize what really matters in life. And that's the power of make-up.

And yeah, yeah, my short-term memory is fadin' pretty fast. Soon I'll be tattooing clues all over my body just so I can remember things, hopefully less along the lines of, "JOHN G RAPED AND MURDERED MY WIFE," and more along the lines of, "PUT ON DEODORANT." But who needs a short-term memory? Really, does anyone ever say, "I am so thankful for my short-term memory!" or, "Thank goodness I remember things that happened 2 minutes ago!" No. No one ever says this. Because it's really not that great of a thing. And, to my belief, it would be a great asset to getting myself out of conversations I would rather not be in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

"The meaning of life and---"

"Who are you again?"

"Well I'm Jane, we met in Psych 101 and---"

"What's 'Psych' mean?"

"Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?"

"Deliberately?"

"You know, like on purpose?"

"Purpose?"

"Like you meant to."

"To?"

"I've had enough, goodbye."

Cha-ching!

See? Great method there. Just don't sleep ever. It's that simple! But enough about the ups of being blessed with insomnia, I am here today to point out one down, yes, only one, of this condition. I heard a few gasps out there---don't get me wrong, I plan on making my ten-year in the insomniac business! There...there's that applause I was looking for! Thank you, thank you. I will, however, have to finish my speech here before we all make a toast to my grand achievement, and in order to do that, I must quickly point out this one flaw:

It'll hit you when you least expect it, and when it does, there's nothing you can do but surrender.

You may be wondering what I mean by this. Well, I'll tell you, but don't go around gossiping about it to your friends, or posting it on the internet, or whatever it is you people do to get attention these days, because it's personal, and yes, even a tad bit embarrassing.

There I was, strolling along my college campus (it was a beautiful day and I felt the dire need to stroll), when I noticed that the grass to my right looked like very nice grass. It just looked so nice...and soft...like the thinnest green pillows you've ever seen...and thousands of them, too! I stopped mid-stroll and wondered to myself if those thin green pillows felt as nice as they appeared...and then I found myself strolling again, not along the sidewalk, but just slightly to the right of the sidewalk, to the grass beside the sidewalk...and the next thing I knew, I was laying in that very same grass beside that very same sidewalk that I had been conducting my signature stroll upon, and it was a beautiful moment, for the grass did, in fact, feel as nice as I had imagined it, and there I laid, body sprawled out to the max, eyes closed, drifting off into a slumber amidst this splendor as I surrendered...(ooh, I liked that), and I was suddenly in this wonderful land of---

"OH MY GOD IS SHE OKAY?"

"I don't know..."

"OH MY GOD I THINK HER LEG IS BROKEN."

"Excuse me? Excuse me?"

"OH MY GOD SHOULD WE CALL AN AMBULANCE?"

"Let me see if she's conscious first. Excuse me? Excuse me?"

"Grrrrhhhhh..."

"Excuse me? E-e-excuse me? Are you alright?"

"Grrrhhhhsleeping...."

"I think she said she was sleeping."

"OH MY GOD SHE'S DELIRIOUS."

"I'm sleeping! Don't worry! Thank you!"

"OH MY GOD SHE'S ALRIGHT!"

"Sorry! Just makin' sure you weren't dead!"

"Nope, just SLEEPING!"

These weren't the last people to stop and ask me if I was alright.

Yes, yes, it was quite annoying. A girl just can't nap in nature, anymore. But that, my friends, is the only downfall (literally!) to my condition. You'll want to sleep anywhere, and ya CAN'T, 'cause people will think you're DEAD. Well, that concludes my speech; Id like us all now to make a toast, a toast to life, love, and a never ending cycle of sleepless nights. Cheers!