Abitu Haiku

A bit too chilly?
That became a bit too hot
a bit too quickly.

Sleeping on it

Supposedly you're supposed to do some of your most creative thinking while sleeping. While that may be true, it certainly was not reflected by my draft of the post I was planning for today. Apparently, in the midst of my typing I drifted off to "creative thinking," for when I went to review what I had written thus far I saw this on my screen:

The weather lately has been incredible. Save for a storm front that blew through the area Tuesday night, it has been mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

(I'm paraphrasing, of course, for space purposes.)

The weird thing (is if there is ever only one weird thing in my life) is I was certain I had typed more of the legible stuff than that. This means that I had been dreaming that I was sitting at my computer typing.

Sitting? Typing? What kind of effed-up dream is that?!?

It was not that long ago that my dreams consisted of, well, the stuff that dreams are made of. And while it may be somewhat of a letdown waking up and realizing that I am not really visiting a tropical resort at the same time as the convention of billionaire nymphomaniac bikini models, once that disappointment fades there are still residual memories to relish.

Even a bad dream is good in its own way. Ever wake up startled, only to be suddenly quite relieved that a) you're still alive, 2) all of your toes are still attached, and c) you don't really drive a Pinto?

I've woken up startled, relaxed, afraid, relieved, inspired, ecstatic, angry, perplexed, determined, awed, aggravated, content, liberated, confined, motivated, de-motivated, excited, energetic, (ahem) relieved, devoted, dejected, enthused, laughing, crying, arguing, hungry, horny, hopeful, pessimistic, optimistic, antagonistic, proud, happy, confused, uncertain, certain, convinced, impressed, depressed, pressured, and serene. I've woken up unsure of the time, unsure of the day, unsure of the year, and unsure that I can make it to a restroom in time. Sometimes I've woken up filled with a deep sense of wow-I-sure-hope-nobody-ever-finds-out-that-I-thought-that!

Good or bad, those varied reactions to my nocturnal musings have had their effect on me. If nothing else, they've helped me feel more alive.

But just how alive am I supposed to feel when my dreams have withered to the point that the all I can come up with is me ... sitting at a computer ... typing?

Do tell me what wondrous climax awaits me in this oh-so-titilating fantasy world I created.

Perhaps, had I not woken up so early, there would have been something more substantial. I might have set myself upon some grand (albeit dorky) quest. If my writing was any clue, I might have been on my way to see those M&M guys. Perhaps it was to involve something tasty, like an bottomless bag of Cheezy Poofs.

Maybe I'm being too cynical about this whole thing. For all I know, by waking up, I may have missed out on my chance at enlightenment. I can see it all now ...

There I am, typing away at a Cheez-encrusted keyboard. The clicking and crunching sounds fuse together to form an angelic harmony. Then suddenly, as I reach into the bag, I realize that I hold in my hand the final Poof. My voracious snacking has led me to the ultimate triumph! I have reached the end of the endless supply of Cheezy-Poofs!

I place the final bite-size artificially-orange powdery morsel into my mouth and savor the Cheezy goodness.

And with that, I reach infinity. Transcendence is mine.

Before me appears a light unlike any light I have ever seen. It beckons me closer. I walk towards the heavenly glow and realize that it's the gateway to Nirvana. I pause long enough to take in the enormity of it all, then head through the existential portal.

It is only then that I realize that the infinite supply of Cheezy Poofs gave me an infinitely fat ass, which naturally gets itself wedged into the crappy little gateway.

I'm left at the edge of the universe, staring at Heaven and mooning everything else. There I wait, twiddling my tremendously pudgy thumbs and pondering what kind of idiot would make a gateway that small knowing that you have to eat a whole effing lot of food to get to it, until my alarm finally goes off and calls me back to reality.

Oh well. In retrospect, I guess it's better that I woke up when I did.

Memorable Moments

My son has come to my room a couple times in recent weeks complaining that he "couldn't sleep." Being the obvious problem-solver that I am, I pointed out the obvious - that somehow his TV and light managed to turn back after I last visited the room - and suggested that were I to remove the cables from the back of the TV (thereby making the Static Channel the only option) it might help induce a slumberous state.

Unfortunately, as is often the case, the true problem is not the problem that is brought up initially. And while I have been taking courses on Active Listening wherein I am learning how to better seek out the underlying concern behind outward behaviors, 10:30pm is not the time at which I would like to employ these measures.

Last night, my son approached me differently.

"Dad," he said.

"Yes?" I replied calmly (it was before bedtime - after bedtime the response is "WHAT?!?").

"When can I come and sleep in your room again?" he asked.

In my last apartment, my son shared a room with his sister. When she got older (and when the X x-ited), I moved him into my room, as it was of sufficient size to hold two beds and still have substantial floor space. Until we moved into the house, he had always shared a room with someone else. Getting his own room was bittersweet; he has his own room, but it's just him in there at night.

"You've got your own room now," I said. "You need to sleep in there."

"But you've let me sleep in here before," he countered.

I did? I thought to myself. When?

"I did?" I asked. "When?"

As you see, I am a complex individual.

"That one night when you let me sleep at your feet," he answered.

Oh, yeah, I thought (this time to myself).

Before you get the impression that I treat my kid like the family dog, it's important to specify three things. First, we don't have a dog. Second, the boy likes table scraps. And third, he was remembering the night when he woke me up close to midnight and I was too tired to shoo him back to his room, so I capitulated and told him to get his comforter and pillow he could sleep on top of my bed.

What struck me was how he spoke of that memory so fondly. It was a Big Deal to him that he got to sleep in my room. For him, that was a Special Event, so special that it warrants Capital Letters when writing about it.

It dawned on me then how much effort I expend trying to artificially inflate the importance of one set of things and in doing so overlook another set of much simpler things that wind up having more value in the long run. I try (and often fail) to do a few things that are spectacular, yet I would probably get greater results if I invested the same amount of energy to do more things that are simply good.

"I really liked that," he said.

Wow. Something that cost me neither time nor money (it didn't even cost me much sleep!) turned into a positive memory that he's been holding onto and will continue to do so.

"Well, until the morning when you farted in my face."