THE BLANK GENERATION

Trying hard to not keep up with the Joneses in 2005.

Pills for Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

It's 3 p.m., and for the past hour I've been struggling to avoid smacking into that wall. I'm certain that this feeling is not unique to me: the post-lunch, mid-afternoon haze, otherwise known as the trying-ever-so-hard-to-stay-awake daze. I used to make fun of my homemaker mother for taking an afternoon nap. But, at the age of 28, I spend a good deal of my afternoon at work slumping deeper into my chair, wishing that I was working in a foreign country that appreciated the value of a good siesta. And if I'm lucky enough to make it through the afternoon without losing steam, I know that the comfy sofa will surely suck out whatever energy remains in my body by 7 p.m. To complicate matters worse, this whole daylight-savings scheme that causes night to fall before the five o'clock whistle blows only makes my case of the Zzzzzs all the more overwhelming.

There are potential remedies readily available to me that I do not take full advantage of. For example, I could (and should) exercise more. This I know, as it has been preached to me by loved ones and fitness magazines alike. But, I've failed to convince myself that exercising at 6 p.m. is going to help me stay awake at 3 p.m. Also, I could try coffee. Caffeine sure seems to work for a majority of Americans. But, I've never, ever, been a coffee drinker. Go ahead and stare at me with your curious glances. Study me like the rare, odd bird I am. But, I'm not into coffee. And over the past four months, I've filtered out soda from my diet as well. Plus, I'm not a smoker, either. So, I'm not doing much to enhance my chances of remaining alert and combating fatigue.

I've never been interested in prescription drugs. I'm not a big believer in correcting my chemical state through, well, additional chemicals. I've known a few people who've been addicted to prescription (and non-prescription) stimulants. So, in my ever-present paranoia, I stay the hell away from anything that could potentially give me a fix for fear of it fixing me to the point that I'm again broken. More so than the paranoia, though, I'm what the psychologists (and my parents) would call "fiercely independent". I don't want your help, and I don't need your help. And I definitely don't need to lean on a drug for support. I'm too proud for my own good.

That said, I've got to do something. I've spent the past four months at work struggling to make it through mind-numbing manuscript after manuscript. (However, it might take something a bit stronger, say someone forcing a gun to my head, to get me to finish this current one—an almost-academic study of the history of baseball sportswriting. What the fuck? I'm afraid my pride is going to whimper in the corner like a six year-old lost in a supermarket when it comes to helping me out with this book. Surely it will wisely excuse itself before finishing its edit of Chapter 13, "The Baseball Writers Rebel", as I power nap with my feet up on the desk.)

Hence, I'm interested in reading more about this expensive little pill. Anyone have any experience with it? If so, do tell.

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