Tag Archives: sleep

Coffee and a Blog

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Coffee and a Blog

Do you ever walk up with a jolt? Like, for instance, you go to bed a smidge after midnight thinking that you are going to sleep in till 11am-1pm for sure, but bolt up with a sudden angst in your belly at 7:45am. It feels like suddenly you are going to be majorly late for work at which you will have to explain to your boss that, “Oh my goodness, this NEVER happens. I am so very sorry. Don’t make me do clerical work. Pleeeaase.” But, then you have this overwhelming moment of peace as your brain catches up with your thoughts and reminds you that it is Sunday, and you groan and sigh in the same moment of relieved exhale. That happened to me this morning. Perhaps it’s a sign that I stress over work too much, but I can’t stress about it now. Instead, I rolled back over and slept till 9:30 which is glorious because it felt like the latest I could sleep in without waking up groggy. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes, because I like sleeping so much, I sleep TOO much and I don’t actually feel rested when I’ve had 12 or so hours of sleep. That seem anti-productive when it comes to the purpose of sleeping, so I push it to the last final minute where I can sanely understand that I need to wake up to feel rested for the day. Today, that number was 9:30.

No matter the amount of rest I do get, however, I drink a cup of morning coffee. Sometimes two. It’s no surprising fact to me when I hear that the world pretty much runs on Dunkin’. I mean, I’ve been enjoying a morning glass of joe since I was 14. Seems a bit young, sure, but nobody is going to take that pleasure away from me now. I have this entire routine down. I wake up, stumble to the bathroom and on the way there, I pass the coffee maker which is positioned ideally along the path to the john. I press the button to get it whirring, and by the time I have finished my shower and have my towel wrapped about my head, the coffee maker is done doing its thang and ready for me to build my perfect mug. So, I go to the cabinet and select my mug for the day. To understand this process of selection, you have to know that I am a mug collector. I have the most random collection of mugs that I have bought over the years. The majority are bright and colorful or funky shaped, but it boils to one simple rule for me when I am deciding on a mug purchase. Did it catch my attention as soon as I spotted it? If so, I go over to examine it and eventually fall in love before purchasing. If I don’t fall in love, I don’t get it but stand by its brothers and sisters to see if the secret gem among them is hiding then proceed to fall in love with it and purchase. Pretty simple. The only problem with this addiction is that it makes choosing my morning mug a dilemma. In the whole morning-coffee scenario, choosing my mug takes the largest amount of time. I have this notion that the mug I choose is what will represent my mood for the day. Do I want to feel round and bubbly? Do I feel tall and sleek with intricate details waiting to be visually enjoyed?

The coffee itself is another ritual. I don’t drink black coffee. And I rarely enjoy the Starbucks version of coffee. For me, coffee is that Folgers’ smell that overwhelms the house and the dark, almost chocolatey smooth consistency of the liquid as it pours into my cup where it swirls with the perfectly proportioned amount of sweet creamer and sugar till in transforms into a golden elixir of morning sunshine. Doesn’t that sound divine? Oh yeah, baby. It is, but coffee doesn’t have to be enjoy in the morning as you sit outside and watch hummingbirds drink from the feeders you have near the garden. Coffee is good any time of the day. I love to have a cup of decaf in the evenings after dinner. I order a slice of raspberry cheese cake and creamed decaf joe. There is a pleasure I can’t quite define after first taking a bite of cheesy, raspberry bliss to then follow it with a sip of golden elixir. Gives me shivers.

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It’s Bedtime

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It’s Bedtime

I love to sleep. I mean, I really do. I love taking naps. I love sleeping in till mid-late morning. I love how the pillow conforms to my head and the fleece blanket is light but warm enough to keep my cozy. My bed is definitely a sanctuary. In fact, my room when ten o’clock to eleven o’clock rolls around transforms into a separate world from the rest of the planet. I like to think of my bedroom as a space ship having crash landed on an alien planet, and inside this space is all my necessary elements for personal survival. I have my collection of note books and journals, my easel and oils, my candles and fragrances and my posters. I have my computer here where I do the majority of my writing and anti-social activities like play an addicting game on facebook. I do not really like to admit that I play a hidden-pictures game, but I do and find it extremely relaxing. I refuse to let it rule my life currently, but tomorrow is a new day after all. Anyways, I did not want to get into that. You should know that I love to sleep. Perhaps it is more than just the need for rest that compels me to sleep as much as I do. Honestly, I think that I sleep because I love to dream, and my dreams end up as the fodder for many poems and stories that I write.

I had a dream the other day that involved my friends, but for the life of me, I can’t remember any of the details. Isn’t that the most frustrating thing in the world? As a human, I marvel at the functionality of our brains, but it totally baffles me how I can have this killer dream that I KNOW would be the perfect story or poem or painting, but when I wake up and return to the world of the living, the dream has melted and not even a lingering whisper of what it was is left behind in my conscious mind. Perhaps it is suspended somewhere in my subconscious like a bowl of whipped cream with cherries buried in it that requires a decent spoon to dig them out. I don’t fancy the idea of someone scooping out my subconscious with a spoon, however, so I can resign myself to be satisfied with the dreams I do remember and not let frustrations rule my perspectives.

For a large majority of people, I have come to understand that 11:30-Midnight is not very late, but for me, I feel like a zombie currently in search of a comfy grave to rest my restless bones. I wanted to write a long post about sleeping and dreaming, and instead have fallen away from that goal to tell you about how sleepy I currently am. Is this an example of blogging in the moment? I don’t know. All I know is that the pile of crumpled up blankets and disfigured pillows on my bed is singing a lullaby that makes my fingers heavy and my eyeballs droop. The honeycomb candle flickering on my desk and causing shadows dance for me along the walls is lulling me to sleep as well. So, dearies, I think it is time for me to say goodnight and wish for you most pleasant dreams (that you can remember in the morning), and sign off for the day. I need to plug in my brain charger.