I have trouble going to bed. I was thinking about that today as a young mother was trying to calm her crying baby on the bus. You could tell the kid wasn’t really crying for any reason other than the fact it was going to sleep. And I started to think about why kids do that. Why cry yourself to sleep? Is sleep scary? Why resist?
I mean, most adults would give their eye teeth to sleep as much as kids do. Especially if they woke up to clean clothes and a ready-made meal and could play all day too. But like that baby, I resist going to bed. I don’t know why – there’s nothing on the tv. Nothing at all. Nearly 100 channels and still nothing to watch. One day soon there will be thousands of channels from all over the world, and there will still be nothing to watch but reruns of Seinfeld. In Spanish.
Right now, I am so tired. More tired than I was 30 minutes ago when I sat down determined to write something in this journal tonight and then checked my email. My eyes are drooping. I’ve already said twice that I should go to bed. But here I am trying to write something. Just in case the impulse doesn’t come around again anytime soon. Don’t want to ignore inspiration
I can ignore my Pilates ribbon. I put it in a little zip case I have, and put that in my suitcase, before I went on a little trip in November. It’s April now. I went on another trip recently & left the zip case in there. Just in case I got inspired. I’d hate to be on holiday and realize I didn’t have my Pilates ribbon. What a tragedy that would be – get the impulse, don’t have the thing you need.
Yawn. All this technology and we still can’t solve the basic problems of human kind, like getting to sleep nicely, and sleeping with someone nice, and getting world peace. I think they’re somewhat related too. If everyone had to have a nap every day after lunch there would be fewer accidents on the way home and everyone would be much more cheerful over the dinner table. There'd be less belligerence. Maybe people would even take the time to become informed before expressing opinions. Maybe people would start accepting the idea that ideas come in all shapes and sizes. I can dream.
April 12: Gloomy. Heading E.
Our lives are filled with stuff we said we’d do and then regret. Work. Marriage. Kids. Dusting. It never ends. I mean, who was born with a dust rag in their hand? Not me. But somehow it’s ended up being a crucial part of daily living. Dust, wipe, scrub, vacuum, sweep, wash, sigh. And what is it about dust? I mean, you only just dampen it down and wipe it away, turn your back and poof it’s back with a vengeance. I think sometimes people bail out from society and go live off the grid because then they don’t have to fight the dust battle anymore.
Distraught parents: “But we paid for college and everything!!”
Him: “I told you I didn’t want to be a Domestic Engineer!”
DP: “We educated you the best we could to be the best you could - you can go all the way to the top as a servant! We saw the movies! That butler worked in the White House!”
Him: “I don’t want to go to the top. I want to stay firmly and happily on the bottom.”
DP: “Where is your ambition! We worked night and day to raise you!”
Him: “Hardly. I do have ambition. It’s just not the same as your ambition for me. Why should I do what you want me to do with the rest of my life? Isn’t it my life?”
DP: “Not while you’re living under this roof, young man!”
Him: “Easily solved. I have my backpack packed and my sleeping bag rolled.”
DP: “But what will you do for money? How will you eat?”
Him: “I’ll work as I need to. Odd jobs. Cut lawns. Mend roofs. Fix cars.”
DP: “That’s it, you’re giving up?”
Him: “I’m not giving up, I’m getting out. I will no longer…” moves closer, eyeing them, saying intensely, “I will no longer Dust. No. Never.”
DP (wailing): “We no longer have a son. Oh gawd, what will the neighbours think. And Grandma. Grandpa. Oh, the shame! You’ll leave us all alone? If the Dust gets too heavy, it will be YOUR fault.”
Him (screen door slams, from outside): “Buy one of those swift-things.”
DP’s collapse on the floor, inconsolable. Even then, a wisp of dust drifts towards them. Hashtag cueeeriemusic.
~
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