I never quite know how to feel about sleep. Which of course is a very strange statement to make, but its true; I never really know how to feel about it. I’m usually caught somewhere between despising it, and adoring it so much that I’d like to maintain it for a very long time. I seem to swing between four, six, or twelve hours sleep. I love to sleep, and this is often my downfall.
If I allowed myself, I’d sleep from midnight until 11am, every day. In fact, I could sleep all day, and then I’d stay up all night, and this is what I did last year. However, I don’t like not seeing even the smallest amount of daylight; waking at 2pm in the winter means you are essentially nocturnal. Getting up at 7am is however, infinitely harder. It’s like you are trying to rebel against the biological want to stay in bed, all day. I read somewhere that adolescents are prone to this, and as you get older, it gets easier to be up early, and to be early. But this is what I’m trying for. In fact, I was doing rather well until two weeks ago, when I went home for a little while, and didn’t need to be up early at the gym everyday. This is my problem; I’m a creature of habit, of routine.
But now, I’m working hard at crawling back into routine. I’ve broken out my Outlook program again, and started planning meals. I did a nice healthy ASDA shop earlier, and looked at ways of making sleep patterns better. I’ve planned my week out with a colour coded schedule. It sounds so completely over-organised, but it seems to be the best way to make me get things done. I can’t abide not doing anything at all, and so scheduling, well, it gives me goals. Some people hate structure, and routine; I adore it. Have goals and achieving them is by far the most satisfying feeling in the world.
Sleeping however, allows our minds to flow into the deepest recesses of ourselves. It’s amazing when we consider what can happen in dreams. Dreams are always so much better than television; it seems miraculous that we can create imagery and story lines in such depth. And equally it’s scary, because our minds have secrets from themselves. I find psychology interesting but at the same time, I hate the idea of somebody poking about inside minds. We know very little about the brain, in comparison with what we know about other organs. We know all there is to know about the heart; we know how it works, what happens when we change things about it. It seems vaguely dangerous that we can play with the enigma that is the brain, it’s function, and assume what it can do. Like playing with chemicals that have only just been discovered, you can’t know what the reaction can be. Psychology helps people, but I imagine it hinders them sometimes too.
So really, in conclusion, too much of a good thing is a bad thing. I think that’s a good mentality to have. A little of everything, but an excess of nothing. That whole sentence made me feel so old, and so boring. Oscar Wilde would have been thoroughly ashamed.