The Only Way…

As most of my friends and family know, I'm pretty much always on the go, always doing something, always working on a project of some sort. It's frustrating to them quite a bit of the time, I'm sure. They tell me I make them tired, they tell me I should learn to say no, they demand I tell them when I sleep. And that last part is what leads me to the purpose of this blog. It's to show just how deep the geek in me really goes. When I finally decide it's time to shut out the lights and get some sleep, I find myself lying in the dark thinking about all the things I am currently in the middle of and wondering how classes will go the next day and what I want to do over the weekend, and what my next blog will be about, and…well, you get the idea. I find it horribly difficult to shut my mind off. Sometimes, it's terrible. As Calvin once said, "night time is dark so you can imagine your fears with less distraction" which means that too often, I start to worry (77). My insecurities, emboldened by the security of darkness, come on out and run rampant. So, my night times are often spent wondering, planning, worrying, or being too eager for the next day. They say it takes, on average, 7 minutes to fall asleep. But that's only when you can stop thinking long enough to actually shut down. Over the years, I've developed techniques to distract my mind with a project that requires no notebook, pen, computer, conversation, or calendar. I've developed things to do to keep tomorrow at bay and allow me to get some sleep so I can have a clean reboot to start over the next day. Here is my confession.

I play word games in my head.

I give myself a challenge that involves the alphabet – think of ten words that start with 'A' and are five letters long, then 'B' and so on. Think of ten actors whose first name starts with 'A' and name a movie each is in. Name ten adjectives that start with 'A'. The games run over several nights – sometimes more nights than I remember. I probably do the same letter more than once because I can't remember where I left off. I'll get stuck on the same letter and spend two weeks trying to think of a ninth and tenth word of four letters that starts with 'O'. I lose count and have to start over. None of those things matter, really – what matters is that I'm not thinking about Middle States or how many papers I have left to grade, or how the laundry needs to get done and the gerbil cage needs to get changed. I'm not thinking about how I'm going to reach that one student in the back who is continually disengaged or whether anyone remembers that dumb thing I said at the last department meeting. Sometimes I move through the letters quickly, but then I always hit that one letter where it slows down just a little, and I'm so dedicated to finishing what I started that my whole being slows down as I try to think of the next word, and then the next. Eventually, instead of the next word, my mind finds sleep and peace. I will pick it up the next night…

There is something soothing about words…they are steadfast and powerful, limited and amorphous. The games remind me of how much I love words and how this helps me relearn the joy of them in a world where the 10 second email takes precedence over a well crafted sentence much of the time. When I was younger, I did myself a disservice by limiting my external vocabulary in order to limit the repercussions of being too smart. I was, then, a nerd. Socially awkward, I spent my time reading and doing crossword puzzles and not much caring for the basketball team or the latest television show. I couldn't shake the words completely, though, for I still wrote poetry and worked on the high school literary magazine. Much of my love of words stayed a private thing, helping me get through my days and the now-trivial drama of youth. And that love is with me still.

My words and my love of language never really left me, and here, in the quiet of the night, is one place where joy of words finds its voice – serving me in yet another way and keeping my mind sharp even as the edges of my consciousness grow fuzzy and fade into sleep…



Watterson, Bill. The Indispensible Calvin and Hobbes. Kansas City; Andrews McMeel Publishing, 1992. Print.