And It Was Past Midnight

Last two nights I have barely slept. Instead I record the thoughts that plague my exhausted soul. I hereby relinquish them to this journal, for once exposed, perhaps I will have exorcised them. Perhaps it's just wishful thinking. Nervously I ponder this action...for once it is here I cannot recall them.

To calm me, I play Granados (Enrique Granados 1867-1916), Danzas espanolas (Spanish Dances). Soothing and refreshing. My two favourites are
1)"Oriental" - Dedicated to Julian Marti..
2)"Andaluza" - Dedicated to Alfredo G.

I BEGIN...Date: 22/09/97..Time: between 24:05 and 04:36 hours

' It is human nature, that the attainment of knowledge be instiable and if not gratified with legitimate accounts it will inevitably resort to clutching at fictional or mythalogical ones....This is but one of the mind's ultimate struggle, to remain in control of it's faculties, to regain once more the logical thought process into the comfortable known pattern of reasoning...' This is my first thought of the night.

I tie in with my last entry....' A knowing - never an innocent. In mind not body I speak, for perhaps this is why my parents, more so my mother with her 6th sense, chose to protect me (overly so). For is it not natural to protect one's child against knowing too much, too early in life? Did I play the part of an innocent child? Yes, to some degree I did. For I hid my true feelings of much which I saw from her, my mother (and most of all others), for I learnt early, that to see her eyes mist with hurt and confusion tore at my soul, her torture at my hands something I could not bare. To my dad I was more brutally honest, though guarded (for it is natural for parents to discuss their child's progress and I couldn't afford for him to tell my thoughts to mum), despite his trying to protect me - I had seen through it all - he knew that I knew, but he pretended and persevered(for my mother's sake and I guess his own comfort - for he like I, could not bare to see her suffer) to shield me from life's pervesities and yet guided me through them with subtle encouragement. So now today, I am women -child.'

'For them, I continued the cherrade and allowed them to shield and protect me. Boundaries were never defined. My personal space was shared with others. Yet, despite the bittersweet comfort it brought me to know they wanted part of me...I looking back, am glad I never traded it. Boundaries when asserted were a struggle, the most difficult of challenges. I still am not sure of the boundaries if any, as when your thoughts run so quick, it is hard to keep track of each emotion that goes with each thought. I take comfort in the knowledge that the brain, being an organ of such diversity, has systematically filed my thoughts for me, which I can call upon when the time arises. It takes training to access those fleeting thoughts, but meditation helps.'

I spent alot of time with my grandmother and her friends. I preferred their company to those of children my age, with their fickle Barbie dolls and designer clothes, as they inevitably made me think ' What am I doing wasting my time with these kids, with whom I have naught in common?'. I guess I was judgemental but youthful feelings can often go hand in hand with the frustration and suffering caused by being forced to endure useless activities. I felt lucky, that I was the youngest (of 4 children) and that I could socialise with my siblings who were all numerically older. My family was all I needed for the first 6 years of my life

My grandmother called me "Nacht Foygell" or "Night Bird", from then I was called "Night Owl". A secret of mine was out...I could not hide it. I have never been a good sleeper. Going to bed late, reading under the covers with my elder brother's torch, switching the torch off when my parents came in to check on the light source, breathing evenly, eyes shut to make them think I was asleep. My elder siblings exacerbated the situation by encouraging me to read and sing songs until the wee hours of the morning. I would often go from each of their bed's (as if making the rounds), searching for knowledge source. More often then not I would be kicked out after 10 minutes, for I asked questions constantly (let's face it, who wants their sleep disturbed by a 4 year old insomniac?). Exhausted by my pilgrimage, I would fall asleep on the floor of my younger brother's room, after he too had kicked me out of his bed. In the morning however I was back in my bed. I vaguely remember my dad or elder brother gently picking me up and depositing me in my rightful bed. After enough complaints, by my siblings, about my night wanderings to my parent's made me my own bedroom, a closet by the kitchen...a hideaway...Hence I transformed. Now the recluse, with books piled leisurely around the room, I had no need to venture out but for basic needs. Problem was, they all came in because they missed me..interrupting (as was considered then, but not anymore) my private haven, wanting my companionship and advice (about advice another time - for it shall exacerbate the exhustion I am experiencing to delve into this now).

'Night was for thought and discoveries - not for sleep. As much as I loved the days, I craved the solitude and the energy of the night. I became alive. The 'Night Owl', a creature that hunts, feeds at dark, eyes everseeing. When sleeping over at my Aunties (my cousin is 6 months younger) I would chatter with my cousin, who talked in her sleep, but how could I tell she slept? She would answer me truthfully and directly as if in a hypnotic state. My aunty upon hearing the noises of children's voices, would come in (early am) and move me and my bunk bed to the dinning room (closed doors). It was a fold up wire stretcher that used to collapse on one side (with any sudden movement) making me sleep at odd angles. After many such episodes, my aunty said to my mother "She'll have to sleep in there (dining room), my child's sleep cannot be interrupted, as she can not do with the amount of sleep your daughter (saying my name) gets ". Overhearing this, I knew she was right. I had the problem and I felt selfish and stupid for having not had the sense to realise that I could not share my night with others. Needless to say the sleepovers discontinued, unless in dire situations when a babysitter (at 3 years I had a crush on my brother's schoolmate, he was the only one I would allow to babysit me, if not him I stubbornly protested any other) could not be found.

' I laugh now at the memory - but it's bittersweet laughter for it's now 3:36am monday morning and despite my physical exhaustion my mind is alert. My ears hearing all night sounds: my breathing, his breathing, the hum of the fridge, my cats gentle snoring and suckling noises (my cats often make suckling motions with their mouths, when they sleep - more about this another time), cars in distant streets, the gas heater...etc.... Oh help me! I exist on 4-5 hours sleep a night if I am fortunate. I hope I sleep now, mostly in non-REM sleep, for I shall be exhausted tomorrow if I should dream more now.' - END

23/09/97 - So these are my thoughts (almost 1 hour after writing them down I fell asleep)....shared with you now. I do not understand what provokes the memories. Probably some repressed thoughts trying to surface..I am too tired to delve into the analysis now. Forgive me.

Till Next Time
Soosh

P.s. Grandmother has been moved to rehabilitation hospital. Kittens are fine and healthy.

[PREVIOUS] [TODAY'S] [NEXT] [ARCHIVE] [HOME]