This weekend has been pretty blah.

For one thing, I have been sleeping a lot. And not the good kind of sleep, the kind that leaves you feeling refreshed and restored.

No, it’s all been that shitty sleep that sometimes seems like it does more harm than good. It certainly doesn’t make me feel rested. Instead, I ended up locked in this cycle of napping where I sleep, get up for a little while, then go back to sleep because the sleep I am getting isn’t doing me any good and I am still very tired.

At this very moment, even though I just got out of bed, I wish I could go back to bed and sleep for another eight hours.

The whole thing leaves me feeling lost and disoriented and somewhat pissed off at the bullshit life puts me through.

Oh well. All I can do is keep trudging onward until I get to the next good bit. In the meantime, do what I can to take care of myself.

I’ve been slacking off on that like hell lately. Eating the wrong things, forgetting to take my insulin, not keeping to my routine. Stuff I know leads to an unhappier me but like an idiot I keep on doing it anyhow.

I am pretty sure that, on a subconscious level, I am punishing myself. Or at the very least, taking out my extremely impotent rage on myself. I can feel the rage of it in my mind. I am a person who wages war against himself on a daily basis.

The good news is, I usually win. Which means I lose. Le sigh.

Gah, the words, they do not come easy today. I’m too tired, despite the caffeine in my system from the Diet Coke I had with my lunch. Normally, I am brimming with words and it’s no big deal to write some of them down. It’s far from effortless, but at least the words are there, waiting to be pressed onto the page.

But right now, I feel like I am out of words. And yet, I have 647 of them to go.

I wish I had a pocket dimension just for napping. A place outside of time so that I can sleep for as long as I want there and when I am done, only a couple of seconds has passed. ^[1] It would be very comfortable, with gravity set to 0.25 G – enough so that I am not in freefall and dealing with all the zero gee complications, but I am still much lighter than usual and my body gets a rest from supporting my enormous weight for a while. It would be dimly lit or possibly even pitch black – it would depend on how I react to total darkness. And it would, of course, be just the right temperature for sleep. Dunno what that is. Whatever temperature would keep me cool without making me feel cold. A temperature so perfect that I wouldn’t need a blanket.

And while I am dreaming big about sleep, there’s the issue of what I am sleeping on.The truth is, I have no idea. I don’t know what my ideal sleeping surface would be. Maybe it would be nothing more fanciful than a high end bed with perpetually clean and fresh linens and sophisticated springs that spread my reduced weight evenly, with no pressure points. Maybe it would be some kind of energy field that does the same thing. Maybe it would be the back of some benevolent creature who loves me and will protect me as I sleep. A creature that vibrates at just the right frequencies to vibro-massage all the tension out of my body so I can truly relax.

Of course, while in realtime only a few seconds have passed in real time, in my own subjective time all that perfect sleep has taken the same amount of time as if I had slept in real time, so I would age the same amount.

Fine by me. I just want to know what it is like to have slept well. I am not sure I have ever had truly good sleep. All that varies is the level of crappiness. I am pretty sure that if I ever well and truly caught up on sleep, I would be a much happier and more focused person.

One problem with my nap dimension : a place where I am very comfortable and there is no time pressure forcing me to do things might end up being where I spend all of my subjective time. The contrast between life in my little sleep bubble and life outside it would be quite stark and I might end up spending weeks or even years in there.

And then, when I finally forced myself to go back to real time, it would be as if I had aged however many years in a few seconds. And that would suck (not to mention tip off the rest of the world that something weird is going on) and so I would have still more reason to stay in my cozy hidey-hole.

So it would have to be boring. No way to use a computer or a tablet or a TV. Too dark to read. Only big enough for me, so there would be no way to bring someone to talk to.

That way, the lack of stimulation which aids sleep would also be the incentive to get the fuck out of there once I am rested up.

Real time might be a harsher place that my little dimension, but boredom is a powerful motivator for a high IQ dude like me.

And speaking of stimulation, I’mma go play Witcher 3 now.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.