Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness is never on time. She has either missed the appointment altogether, gotten confused about who she was meeting or where she was meeting them, or she has lost her keys. She is forever making lists, but when she reads them, she can't remember what each notation means. The list says pick up flowers, but she can't remember whom they were for or why she was buying them.

Forgetfulness is full of apologies, but it is hard to forgive her because you know she will make the same mistake the next time. On the other hand, it's hard not to pity her because she tries so hard and seems so sincere. She makes you believe that she can't help herself.

The Uberman Sleep Schedule

 Eli’s excited today. He’s on his second day on the uberman sleep schedule, a form of polyphasic sleep he learned about on StumbleUpon, a utility he keeps on his desktop that sends him to all kinds of random websites.

The concept behind the uberman sleep schedule is that you can train yourself to sleep for 20 minutes every four hours, on a tight schedule around the clock, and that the resulting two hours of sleep can be enough to live on, therefore giving you more awake time. Animals frequently live this way, sleeping for short periods of time throughout the day and night. When I come to think of it, so did my father. For years he was an inveterate napper, and he often did his best work in the middle of the night.

Training Update: Week 12: 9/25/09

Well, what can I say? My feet hurt! My calves hurt! My shins hurt! My quads hurt! I am experiencing the physical impact of walking 25-40 miles a week. It feels good while I'm doing it, but there's a downside to being an athlete too! In fact, most of the people I know who have been serious athletes are paying the consequences later in life (now in my case). I may have what is the beginning of Plantar Fascitis. According to Wikipedia:

A Loss I Have Yet to Grieve

Eli’s entering 11^th grade, the big year for college preparation: AP classes, SATs, ACTs, perusing college catalogues, and visiting campuses. Eli’s caught in a bind; he wants to go to college—whether or not to go has never been a question for him; he’s always been a person of the mind. But he doesn’t want to think about leaving home or the end of high school. He loves his life now: he has a girlfriend, he loves his friends, he feels safe and comfortable in his school and in his community, his moms drive him around, there is food available in the cupboards, and he pretty much has everything he needs. Why should he think about leaving all that behind? Why should he contemplate the future?

Nonetheless, being the kind of mother I am, I am thinking about his future. I have bought a stack of college guidebooks and left them strategically around the house: The Fisk Guide to Colleges, Colleges That Change Lives, The Insider’s Guide to College, The Book of Majors, and Cool Colleges for the Hyper-Intelligent, Self-Directed, Late Blooming, and Just Plain Different.

In my fantasy, Eli pores over these books in his spare time (without texting or listening to anything on his headphones—come on, it’s my fantasy) and rushes over late at night to excitedly share his latest discovery. The reality is much more like the Zits cartoon that shows a mother eagerly reading college catalogues while her teenage son sits bored and snoring in the background.  I am the one who eagerly reads these books, contemplating all the incredible opportunities awaiting my precious son. I’m the one who interrupts his Dungeons and Dragons research, his origami designing, his online chats with Ashley or his absorption of fan fiction online. “Hey Eli,” I say, “Listen to what they say about Reed.” In real life, Eli grunts back, but at least he holds back from rolling his eyes; if he’s been fed, he’s too polite for that.