#oneaday Day 403: Falling asleep to Let's Plays

Not for the first time, I find myself reassured by an article from Aftermath, this time on the subject of falling asleep to Let's Plays, which is something my wife and I do on the daily. Nightly. Whatever.

Anyway, I knew that falling asleep to some sort of "noise" was becoming increasingly widespread for various reasons — not least of which being the huge ball of anxiety pretty much all of us appear to be carrying around inside our respective heads at all times these days — but I wasn't sure how common specifically using Let's Plays was. I especially wasn't sure about the use of Game Grumps, one of our shows of choice.

But, according to the article, it seems that it's not only common (right down to using Game Grumps!) but that there might actually be a certain amount of value to it. And that's an actual neurologist saying that.

I never used to "need" noise to get to sleep, and I'm not sure I really do now. But my wife Andie finds it difficult to deal with complete silence, particularly in the dead of night, and so we've both fallen into the habit of having something playing when we are ready to go to sleep. Most of the time, it is either the aforementioned Game Grumps — or my own videos, which, as it turns out, are pleasantly relaxing to listen to.

In fact, I'll be honest here — and I'm aware that this may well make me sound much more narcissistic than I actually am — I find my own videos to be the absolute best thing to help me get to sleep. I think it's because I'm already so familiar with all of them — both from having made them, and from having listened to each of them many times each at this point — that they strike a good balance between making enough noise to distract me from Thinking Bad Thoughts, and from not engaging me enough to want to pay attention to them. The trouble I occasionally have with Game Grumps is that I enjoy listening to them so much — particularly if it's a series I haven't watched or listened to before — that I end up paying attention to them rather than concentrating on getting to sleep.

I don't know if I'm a textbook "insomniac" as such, but I've always found it difficult to get to sleep. I get stuck in a sort of loop where I lie down and close my eyes, then my brain suddenly pipes up and goes "you don't actually know how to make yourself go to sleep, do you?" I then spend ages thinking "I really want to go to sleep, I wish I could go to sleep right now", but the act of thinking those things means that my brain is not shutting down and actually going to sleep. This can go on for hours at a time, particularly if the room is silent.

And that's where the Let's Plays help. If there's some noise on, my brain can latch onto that, and it doesn't get caught in that self-destructive cycle. It has to be the right kind of noise, though; I've found that music doesn't tend to work, and neither does simple, straightforward white noise (and/or its variously "coloured" relatives). But talking does, particularly if it's about something I find relaxing, familiar and comforting.

And so that's how we typically fall asleep: either to Danny from Game Grumps playing King's Quest IV or Space Quest for the umpteenth time… or to me playing old Atari games (including, on occasion, King's Quest and Space Quest games).

I'm reassured to learn that this isn't "a weird thing that we do"; it's a thing that seemingly is quite widespread.

Now, I just need to decide what's on the playlist for tonight…

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#oneaday Day 374: Afternoon nap

I've been exceedingly tired today and I'm not really sure why. Possibly it's because I went to bed pretty late last night, and possibly it's because I might be coming down with whatever it is my wife has right now (it's not COVID, we checked) but, regardless, I felt the need to spend my lunch break today just having a nap.

A daytime nap can be thoroughly pleasant. I've mentioned here on this blog numerous times that I tend to have my most vivid dreams after I've woken up for the first time each day and then fallen asleep again, and this remains true for daytime naps, too; they tend to involve vivid, interesting dreams that, more often than not, I find myself wanting to "finish" before I wake up.

This is silly, of course, because you can't "finish" a dream, and the relatively nonsensical nature of your average dream means that even if you could, there's no guarantee you could find whatever the trigger for the "end point" is.

For example, this morning when I was snoozing my alarm and not wanting to get up, I had a dream that I was at a station and needed to catch a train. I was supposed to meet some people and get on the train with them, but by the time I reached the platform the train was on, I could see said people waving to me from the train, which was just pulling out of the station.

Strangely, the last carriage of the train remained where it was, and became a bus going somewhere completely different as soon as I got on. I knew that the place the bus was going was a fair distance from the train's eventual destination, but I figured I would just get off at the next stop and figure things out from there. The next stop was a large and lively city — I didn't recognise it specifically, but it was relatively pleasant — so, as planned, I got off and attempted to decide what to do next, eventually settling on hiring a car to drive to the train's eventual destination, dropping it off at a branch of the car hire place that would inevitably be there.

I woke up around that point, realising I'd overslept somewhat, and thus I will never know if I 1) successfully hired a car, 2) if it was possible to drop said car back at a different branch of the agency to the one I hired it from, and 3) if I ever made it to wherever the train was going. And there are, of course, plenty of unanswered questions posed by the things I did experience, because dreams make no sense.

I mean, sure, you can interpret them in various ways — perhaps this dream is a manifestation of subconscious worries about being "left behind" in some way or another — but ultimately, a dream is always something your subconscious decided to conjure up for reasons that we still don't entirely understand, despite there being numerous theories about it.

I wonder what would happen if you did ever manage to "finish" a dream, whatever that means. What are the odds on it causing immediate and complete brain death? With everything we've had to put up with in the world up until this point, it wouldn't surprise me one bit. And it might even be a nice escape; the universe saying that you've survived enough, so now it's time to be set free.

Cheery thought, huh? Sweet dreams!

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#oneaday, Day 138: Days in the Sun

It was another gloriously sunny day today. It's easy to forget that England gets nice weather sometimes when an estimated 85% of our days are overcast.

Everyone is in a better mood in the sunshine. And, judging by the number of people in town, everyone skips work in the sunshine, too. I went to the park and sat in the sun for a bit and there were people from all walks of life all around. There was the chav in the open shirt who kept stroking his chest. There were the noisy, screechy girls. There were excited little kids on their half-term break headed for the playpark. And there was me.

Sitting in the sun is nice. There's something extremely pleasant about the weather being good enough for you to be able to sit (or indeed lie) on the grass and just relax. If it's been raining or snowing, or if it's cold, you'd never even think about lying down on the ground and dozing for a bit. But as soon as it gets a little bit sunny? Everyone seems to come down with narcolepsy. Well, except those people playing frisbee.

Lying in the grass is one of those things that triggers memories, particularly of being very young. I can remember lying on the grass at primary school on hot sunny days. Sometimes my friends and I would just lie there. Other times we'd talk. Other times still we'd attempt to do those stupid moves from P.E. that no-one ever does in real life. And on one memorable occasion, a friend became convinced that by doing a shoulderstand and "squeezing a bit", he could make himself fart at will. (He couldn't.)

Besides school, other grassy memories are mostly picnic-related. I have oddly strong memories of visiting the Imperial War Museum at Duxford and sitting in the grass having a picnic as we watched the planes take off, land and do various pieces of death-defying aerobatics. Thinking about it, I don't think we were actually sitting on the grass, more hanging around the car in deckchairs eating sandwiches. But sandwiches always taste better outside, as everyone well knows.

So it's been a nice day. A very nice day in fact. Even the fact that I clearly got a bit burnt judging by the tingling on my ears right now (either that or someone's talking about me) didn't detract from the niceness of the day. So that's good. Nice days are good. Nice days are much-needed. Nice days have been away for a long time, so it's, well, nice to see them again.

Let's hope this lovely summery weather continues for some time, and that we see more in the way of girls in tiny shorts and less in the way of shirtless bald chavs staggering through parks with cans of Tennents Extra clutched in their desperate sweaty gorilla-hands. And maybe some English people can get a proper tan instead of feeling the need to pointlessly slather themselves with orange paint.

#oneaday, Day 127: Good Morning, Sleepyhead

Pro-tip: Colouring in things with a mouse is a pain in the arse. Don't start it, because then you'll have to finish it. Good morning! Well, it's nearly 2AM after all. That traditional blogging time, you know.

So I've been by myself for some time now after a long time having someone beside me almost constantly. And the thing that's struck me the most is how one's perception of time changes. Or maybe it's not the perception of time, it's the brain associating certain activities with certain memories and wanting to distance itself from them. Or, to simplify matters, it's about the messed-up sleepytime routine of the lonely man.

Take going to bed. I've found it quite difficult to make myself go to bed at a reasonable hour. I never was particularly good at it at the best of times, but if the occasion demanded it, I could be in bed before midnight. Before 11PM, even. But now? Staying up late isn't particularly unusual. This isn't some attempt to take full advantage of my new-found and not-particularly-enjoyable freedom. It's simply that going to bed means spending time alone in a dark room. Which, as anyone who has ever suffered through depression, stress, or any sort of crisis (all three of which I'm suffering right now) will tell you, is a sure-fire way to get one's brain thinking about things you don't really want to think about. So my body convinces itself that it's not tired and doesn't want to go to bed yet. So I don't. Eventually I will collapse into bed and sleep, but it's only once I really can't go on any longer.

The side-effect to this is, of course, that it's sometimes a bit difficult to wake up in the morning. But not only that. Having grown accustomed to waking up alongside someone else and having that presence there to spur you on to face the day, whatever it might entail, it's a shock to the system to suddenly have to do all that yourself. I can wake up early, sure. But getting out of bed? More difficult. When it feels like there's not much to get up for – and certainly no-one waiting for me to get up – it becomes easy to just lie there staring into space or worse, fall asleep again. This is, of course, enormously impractical and could probably be rectified by going to bed a bit earlier, but because of the aforementioned reasons, that's difficult too. Vicious cycle, you see.

It's not as if I don't keep myself busy, though. If I stay up late, it's not just to stare at a wall or sit there in floods of tears, though both of those have happened at least once recently. No, I find something to do. I find someone to chat to. I write something. I draw something. I play a game. I harass people on Twitter. Anything to avoid having to sit in that dark room trying to get to sleep, failing and hearing that little tap-tap-tap of the unpleasant thoughts come a-knockin' on my brain. It's a distraction, though, not a substitute.

So the moral of this story, then, is don't be alone. It sucks.