Five Stupid Things

I now present five things about me that you had absolutely no desire nor need to know but that I felt the strange narcissistic urge to write about.

1. I absolutely, positively must fall asleep on my left side.

It's not that the right side isn't comfortable; in fact, in the process of falling asleep, it's quite common for me to spend a bit of time on the right side, and a bit of time on my back. But for some reason, whenever I start to fall asleep, when I start to feel my consciousness slip, and whatever train of thought I happen to be entertaining at the time begins to wander aimlessly and cease making any kind of sense, I simply must find myself on my left side or else I slip back to consciousness and begin the entire process over again. This is actually pretty common for me; it's a process of drifting, returning, rolling over, drifting, returning, etc.

I don't know why it's like this for me. It could be one of many things. My right ear has drastically reduced sensitivity, so maybe I just tended to naturally favor sleeping with the more sensitive ear buried in a pillow; any auditory distraction makes it pretty much impossible for me to fall asleep. In fact, I have been sleeping with earplugs in more and more recently. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm right-handed? I can't see how that would affect sleeping, though. Maybe it has something to do with the proximity of my bed to a wall during formative years, and whether I would have favored facing the wall or facing away. I really just think it's the ear thing.

2. It's really tough for me to drive at dusk.

This is something I've been aware of since I first started driving, about ten years ago. It's not that it's actually difficult, like my motor skills or hand-eye coordination becomes jeopardized, but it's more of a difficulty in maintaining visual focus; it's the contrast between the sky and road. As the sun creeps behind the horizon, the road becomes quite dark, but the sky remains just a bit lighter for a slightly longer period. This contrast between the darkening road and the still light sky causes some kind of strain for my eye. It's fatiguing and distracting, and I find the entire ordeal to be difficult and uncomfortable.

Something tells me this might actually be more common than I originally thought; it might be like writing about how odd it is that I brush my teeth in the morning (read: not very).

3. I like to drive with my headlights off for brief intervals on country roads, during clear nights when there's a full moon.

This could almost be called 2a; nighttime is very different from dusk for me. Driving down Wozniak when there is little cloud cover and the moon is full (or near enough, at least), I like to briefly turn off my headlights and drive for a bit with nothing but the moonlight reflecting off the road. It sounds more dangerous than it is; it's really quite well illuminated at the time. The road glows a gentle, dark blue. It bears a strange, quiet, solitary tranquility that is something I've come to enjoy. It's particularly bright and especially beautiful if there is a fresh blanket of untrodden snow. I highly suggest anyone to try it next winter if the opportunity presents itself.

Safety precaution: turn your lights back on at the first sight of any other vehicle or wildlife, no matter the distance. And don't go very fast; it's dangerous and ruins the experience anyway.

4. I probably don't remember your name.

...unless we've known each other for a while. For some reason, I just can't seem to register names for long-term recollection. I could recall a dozen facts about you or describe your appearance with unfaltering accuracy, but I'm probably at a total loss for your name. I even try to use little reminders, like explicitly saying your name immediately after you say it while I give my own, and then repeating it in my head a few times shortly after our conversation ends. But before too long, I'll think back on it and there will simply be a gaping hole where that information should be.

The worst was the guy I met at the coffee shop who gave me the books. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation and I could tell you the names of every author we discussed, including ones he mentioned or recommended that I hadn't heard of before; but as soon as he had walked back downstairs, I had completely forgotten his name. I actually made the attempt to walk back down and ask him, but he had disappeared. Luckily, I was discreetly reminded of it when I received the box a few days later. (More on this in a forthcoming post.)

5. I enjoy organizing things into numbered lists.

I also enjoy pretentious self-reflexivity.