16 posts tagged “sleepy”
My mom and I have to sleep in a room on a double bed that is next to another double bed in some room I've never been in before. When I check into this particular dream, my mom and I are already laying next to each other in bed and about to fall asleep. That's when I realize that in the next bed my ex boyfriend and his friend who happens to be gay are trying to fall asleep, too. It was awkward, but for some reason we either didn't want to or couldn't leave and get our own room or find different beds that were not near these guys.
So, I spend the night in that room and when I wake up (dream within a dream!) my ex boyfriend is giving his friend a handjob. So I look at him and say "[Redacted]! What the fuck are you doing?!?" I'm not upset because it turns out that my ex-boyfriend was probably jacking off his friend the whole time we were seeing each other, but because my poor mother is sleeping next to me and about three feet away from them.
At this point the friends crawls out of bed and runs to the bathroom. I'm left alone with my ex who I'm kind of having a stare down with. He has this genuine look of hurt on his face and he says "God, Molly. I was just doing what I had to do!" Then he stands up with the comforter wrapped around him like a cocoon and starts to walk out the door. Right before he leaves he turns to me and says "Beside, we've been over for awhile."
And I'm left laying there in bed wishing that I could explain that I'm more upset he was getting his friend off in the same room as my sleeping mother than I am about the implication that he was prostituting himself to his gay friend for God knows what.
I honestly have no interest in looking up the interpretation of this dream.
This weekend felt long, but in a good way. I woke up early Saturday and Sunday to pack in as much as possible, and luckily there's a few things crossed off my list for this week.
Friday night I got margaritas with Matt and Lindy and we worked on our show while I got very drunk very quickly. I didn't even mean to get drunk, but when I was exactly two margaritas deep I started getting giggly and kind of sloppy. Casey Wilson talked about what happens after two "margaroos" on her Funny or Die blog and Matty and Lindy were two of the friends mentioned in her story. They have passed down to me the true power of margaroos... Seriously, don't have that third 'roo. By the time I got home at 9, I was completely plastered. I was passed out by 10.
Saturday morning I woke up to film a sketch for Channel 101 with Kendall. We did bit parts for my friend Jim's sketch series "Making Mistakes". After that we came back to my house and filled up a couple hours with hula hooping, fetch with Wagandstuff and filming. Kendall and I did a Steve Aoki/Cory Kennedy bit for the Monday To Do List. Granted, they are both kind of obscure for the mainstream population, but I hope it is funny to people who don't even know who they are. After that I had improv followed by a night out on the town.
This morning I started the day with the news that I had been selected to perform in Worst Laid Plans this coming Friday at UCB. I am SO excited to be doing the show and although I normally would blush at the subject matter (I can be surprisingly prudish about certain types of sex talk. It's the former Catholic in me...), I've seen this show before and laughed the whole way through. Obviously I would want to be a part of that. I also started my new improv class today. The class actually started last week, but I had to miss it due to the MTV Movie Awards. My class is HUGE but I'm pretty blown away by how talented everyone is, the ladies in particular. Ever since I got back I've been catching up with phone calls and making videos for the week...
Now I'm going to go pass out and do the whole "work week" thing all over again...
So everyone who knows me knows that I am a complete mess in the morning or any time I'm waking up. I can't control it, I really can't. I'm not conscious, I don't realize that I'm swearing at everyone and being mean. I've woken up to people not speaking to me because of things I've said in the early stages of waking up and have no memory of. This only really happens when someone has the balls to touch me or try and wake me up... if I am able to wake up on my own with no interruptions, my exit from Dream Land is a lot more graceful.
If you don't understand what I'm talking about, let's break it down: I've punched my own beloved mother for touching me while I'm sleeping. I've told so many people to "fuck off" in my sleep that I've lost count. My go-to is "I fucking hate you. Get out of my life." Do you want to know how many people I've said that to? So would I. I honestly have no recollection of doing any of this most of the time, and in the moment there is absolutely no way to stop me. I wish more than anything there was someone in my life who understood that if they touch me or try and kiss my face when I'm passed out I will cut them. That's the key to having any sort of decent relationship with me. Just let me fucking sleep.
Wagandstuff totally gets it, actually... that's where I originally meant to go with all of this. In the mornings, he leaves me alone until I start moving around, and then once I've made some noises and my eyes open up, he lays on his back next to my face and tries to do some French kisses with me. This morning he actually just wrapped himself around the top of my head and licked my nose repeatedly. When he gets going with the French kisses, it's like he can't stop. He's totally the very best boyfriend I've ever had. He really gets me.
I've missed an early AM plane before. It's a feeling of failure I'm not prepared to deal with this morning.
Last night I didn't sleep a wink because I was craving one of my mother's tuna fish sandwiches so badly. Even though I knew that there was nothing I could do about it until I go home in April, I couldn't stop thinking about sandwiches.
*Everything here is true, but felt I should clarify because I realize that what I just shared might be really difficult for some people to wrap their heads around.
No one wanted to hang out tonight so I'm going to lay in bed with my dog and read. I probably won't come back to the computer for the rest of the night. I'm over this Death Machine.
Cable and internet has been down in my hood all day which puts a serious cramp in my work situation. I'm writing from a Coffee Bean where I was forced to crouch in the corner for about 15 minutes. My bony ass was digging into the floor and I had this moment where I was thinking to myself "This is what turning into an adult has brought me to."
Desperately searching for invisible internet signals in the middle of a Los Angeles coffee shop, my fat-free ass acquainting itself with the cold hardness of a tiled floor. There are moments of adulthood that have made me re-experience childlike feelings of desperation and patheticness that I haven't felt since I actually was a helpless little girl. This is one of those moments.
Now I'm here in a wicker chair with my laptop keeping my legs warm. It's almost time to sign off and get ready to go to Harold night at UCB. I've waited all day for this last stretch of the work day, and now that it's here I am so relieved I could cry. Work was hard today. It was hard to keep going and make it seem like I didn't care. I wanted to throw a tantrum, stay in bed, do anything but keep trudging through my responsibilities like I do pretty loyally every. single. day. Sometimes you just want to throw in the towel and quit, but there's this little voice in the back of your head that's persistently saying "JUST KEEP GOING!" I realize that this is pretty childish complaining. Everyone has to work all day and there are certainly people who have it much worse than I do, but MAN am I tired today.
This is my impression of one of the many friends I have named Eric:
"Oh hey, Molls? Taking your first nap in three months? OK. I'll leave you alone and just call your cell phone twice instead. I really don't want to disturb your sleep, so I'll just Google chat, IM and email you a few times, too. I'll also send you a scholarly essay I wrote when I was drunk about the company you work for. Oh! And don't forget this hilarious LOLCat I made of my dog. Hilarious? OK, I mean 'kind of hilarious'. Fine, I mean 'not funny at all'. OK, well, other than that I can't think of what else I may need to communicate to you in a twenty-minute span, so I'll just let you get that rest I know you need. Call me back?"
Strangely enough, he is still one of the few people on the planet that I enjoy spending time with. Probably because I'm a sleep deprived mess.
The key factor in my working from home is that I never work from bed. I pretend that I go to work everyday at my house like my desk is actually ten miles away in Santa Monica like it used to be rather than ten feet from my bed. I never lay down after I start my day and try and stay out of bed until I go to sleep at night because otherwise I will never get any good sleep ever. I'll get that feeling of being too used to my bed, which is what happened in college when I would spend like six hours a day writing in the same spot I slept.
But the last two weeks I've been working non-stop (it feels that way at least) and I feel like I'm about to hit the wall that I've never hit before. Today I made the mistake of laying in my bed for five minutes. I didn't fall asleep, but now I know how good it feels to eat a sandwich and then lay in my bed for five minutes around 1:45 on a Thursday, and that feeling could be more addictive than my beloved Marlboro Lights.
And I would also blame my exhaustion for this exchange between me and one of the editors:
I wish I had the DVD for ChunKing Express. I think it's one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen in my life. I really wish I could watch it today because I'm feeling kind of sick and Wagandstuff is being calm for once. We could snuggle and watch it and things would seem better.
