me lol

I went to bed at 7:30pm last night. Well, it was last night as of the day I’m writing this. I’m sure this post won’t actually go up for a few months because I’ve been a lazy asshole about updating the blog. For all I know, the actual last night probably showed me staying up until 4am completely shitty hyper on crushed up amphetamines, but last night (keep up, please) I went to bed at 7:30pm.

I hate going to bed early. My entire life revolves around looking forward to my evenings when everyone is asleep and I can do all my introverted nerd activities in peace, so when I fall asleep before my kids do it makes me rather fucking grumpy. Like this: *grump*

My day at work is considerably light today, which is why I decided to write this very unfunny post about how tired I am all the time. I don’t know how many thyroids a human body has — 4? — but all of them are likely functioning poorly, leading me to a life of constant ineffective cups of coffee and walking in the terrible, awful sunlight just to try to find a modicum of energy. Last night, I was trying to watch that episode of Farscape where the crew finds a gaggle of cannibals on a totally fucked up, deteriorating Leviathan ship. I could barely keep my eyes open, even during close-ups of Ben Browder’s sexy blue eyeballs. How am I supposed to enjoy an evening of cringey sci-fi television and working through my backlog of 85 Xbox games when I’m zonking out on my couch before the sun even goes down? How many Red Bulls am I supposed to chug to get my nights back?

me lol

Every day, every fucking day, I spend my commutes dozing on the trains and buses. Dozing on the way in, dozing on the way home. Are you aware of how many times I’ve probably dodged the bullet of a very smelly, heroin-addled homeless man stealing my backpack full of pens, movie ticket stubs, my kids’ hair clips, and an umbrella with barely-working Velcro? How many times have I avoided getting penises drawn on my face by those seven unruly children who get on the Green Line at the Central stop? That 12-year-old with the forearm tattoos looks awfully shifty to me.

Then there’s the actual work day. Pushing paper is sleepy work, my friend. Oh, how I look forward to noon. There’s a couch upstairs in the abandoned Sales office. I scurry away during every lunch period to the quiet dimness. Typically, that’s the time I attack my comic book write-ups, but more often than not you’ll catch me snoozing for an hour instead. I’d rather not sleep. I’d much rather read comic books. But I can’t help it. I’m so goddamned tired all the time. And do I feel rested after this nap? Hardly, son. Hardly.

Let’s talk about the weekend. Man, am I tired on the weekend. Some Saturdays I’ll even take two naps! How fucked up is that? On a regular spring day, normal people are enjoying a traipse around town. Perhaps a lunch at their favorite restaurant, sitting outside in the sun and eating their delicious bagels, lox, and capers. What am I doing? I’m fucking sleeping in my bed while the rest of my family is antsy about going outside and actually doing something for the day. How selfish can you be?

me lol

Loyal readers of the blog (ha!) will notice that my updates have really tapered off. This is because I’m so shitfucking tired all the time. I don’t do the things I write about, so I have nothing to write about unless I do the things. Am I partaking in fun solo journaling games? Nope. Am I catching up on blockbuster movies? Not a chance. Am I enjoying a book or two? Nada. When I’m not unconscious, my free time in spent rewatching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and fucking around in Skyrim. How many times can I really see Xander fall in love with an inhuman monster? How many Falmer can I kill with dwarven arrows? These are the things I think about now.

I’m so tired that I can’t even be bothered to post the stuff I already wrote about. Are you aware of how many posts, articles, and reviews I currently have on tap, ready to post? Would you believe it’s somewhere around 200? Two hundred! So why am I not churning these out on the regular, giving myself a reprieve for the next 2/3 of a year? It’s because I’m so damn tired all the time, that’s why. These posts still need to be proofread, and reading is exhausting. I have 42 movie reviews just waiting there, ready for the world to see. But I’d rather take a nap than show it to you. You don’t deserve to see my Zoolander musings anyway.

The culprit? Work. Kids. Life. Depression. Anxiety. Responsibilities. I can’t handle any of it, man. I wake up every morning at 6:10am to pack the kids’ lunches (loaded with nutrient-free carbohydrates), take a shower, get dressed, get my kids dressed, make sure they have everything, and leave the house by 7:10am. I’m beat just thinking about it! What an awful hour that is. There’s nothing I look forward to less than getting ready in the morning before I even commute to work. I’d rather rake out my eyes with, like, you know, a rake.

Should I go to a doctor? How is a doctor going to relieve me of my myriad responsibilities? I’m already going to therapy once a week and meeting with a psychiatrist once a month. I’m taking more pills than any human should probably take at 37.

Writing all this made me tired. I’m going to go take a nap.