Wednesday, June 27, 2012

On Staying in Bed


            
My bed is sublime.  The mattress is a Tempurpedic which is covered by a foamy, soft cover that I just melt into.  The sheets are high thread count cotton, and the quilt is baby-blanket soft and cool.  Four fat pillows float around atop the mattress for cuddling and propping and burying.  I wake up in the morning and think about getting up, then fall back asleep for a bit.  Then again.  Then again.  Getting up has become somewhat of a chore.  I’ve made my bed a bastion of comfort so that I won’t have to get out of it, because there is nothing really to get out of bed for.

                So then my utopian cradle becomes a black hole.  Even after I manage to tear myself out of it, I find myself returning over and over throughout the day, falling into a position of repose, as though I have done something worthy of rest.  When I’m working (obviously) I can’t simply fall back into bed, because I’m at work; but when summer rolls around, and the heat takes the fun out of the outdoors, here I am.  Again and again. 

                I mostly lie in bed and think; I don’t sleep.  Sleeping is too easy and not a thing neurotic people do very well.  No, we like to think about all the things we could or should be doing rather than lying in bed staring at the wall, but the idea of actually doing any of those things is utterly exhausting to me.  What if I had a partner or friend to lie in bed with and plan whatever things people plan?  I could go make a friend, but that’s exhausting.  Where would I look?  Wouldn’t that require getting dressed and getting out of bed?  I could write a book.  If only I had something … a plot, perhaps. 

                In truth, I do a lot of work later in the day:  planning for school and reading books and making notes and plotting things out.  Will I remember all the brilliant insights and nuances once school starts again?  Probably not.  Will the students care about all those little moments of sheer brilliance that Scott Fitzgerald and others have laid out for us?  Not really.  But I can at least enjoy them myself in the interim and delude myself temporarily that I can share them with others.  Perhaps a book club?  Unfortunately, most of the people I know don’t read for pleasure.  A most ridiculous non-habit, if you ask me.  No wonder America is in jeopardy of becoming one of the dumber countries in the world.  Just read one of the more “popular” books of the last few years (Twilight, Hunger Games, Fifty Shades of Gray) – as entertaining as those books may be, they are written at about a fifth grade level.  But I digress…

                If I could only harness my thoughts, organize them in some capacity.  But my bed is too convenient.  It’s always there to absorb me and allow me to drift off into the idleness of thought.  You see, I thought about thinking, and then I moved over to my computer and wrote about thinking, and now I’m going to force myself to get dressed and do a series of things which make me feel as though my life is not a complete waste.  Unfortunately, those things will end up being cleaning or working out, neither of which changes the world.

                One morning, I’m thinking it will happen around 11:11am, an idea will spontaneously sprout into my head, and it will be brilliant.  I will follow it and make it wonderful and then travel the world sharing it with others.  Until then, the cool cotton will call me back to revel in uselessness.            

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