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Thursday 2 May 2013

BEAM ME UP SCOTTY


[The guy above actually looks good, I assure you]

I went to a sleep clinic on Sunday. It has been a long time coming and I was eager to see what would actually take place (I was praying for sleep of course), as well as hoping that the end result was that they would hand me a sure-fire cure to great sleeping for the rest of my life. Yes, I was clearly having a moment of inflated utopian positivity, but people always say that it pays to be positive so I thought I’d try it.

One thing you must know about England – and perhaps some of you do – is that the architecture is old (or aka: historical and traditional) in the majority of the city and when it comes to hospitals you’re never quite sure what you are going to get. And well, I’m American, and when it comes to hospitals I like things shiny, new and smelling like bleach; yes I’m spoiled like that. Anyway, upon arriving at the clinic (which was within a hospital), the outside of the building was of course gorgeous and ‘historical;’ the inside, well let’s just say that The Shining comes to mind, the hallways a bit long and stark, the paint chipping, the overall palette of the place smacked of dehydrated yellow. Adding to that, my room had the same feel, minimal, typical small and sterile hospital bed, and the overall place was needing of some TLC (okay okay, in my head I envisioned a sleeper's paradise with big down fluffy clouds, but I told you before I was awash in utopian delusion). But when people are offering to help me sleep – and for free no less – I will sent up camp in the middle of an Afghani desert if I have to.

So after sizing up my surroundings like any predictable insomniac, I realized that the large Victorian window was broken and unable to fully close, which meant that with each gust of wind, the blind blew into the room and the blind would bang against the windowsill. But I figured, I had my trusty earplugs, so I wasn’t going to let that worry me. In addition, the overhead fluorescent light was clearly on the fritz, and was sputtering and flickering for its last breath, so I was mighty glad I was not an epileptic on top of everything else. But wanting to put a positive spin on all this, I just switched off the light, opened the door and figured I was here to sleep not bask in the overhead glow of bad lighting.

So I got comfortable, fired up the laptop (one of my many 'sleep hygiene' problems, apparently) and waited for the study to begin. A doctor soon came by to take some blood from an artery in my wrist (I swear this hurts more than labor) and told me a tech would soon be by to get things started. In about an hour Mr. Techy came in and told me it was time to ‘wire’ me up, so I should get ready for bed. This sounded a tad ominous but in my head I had an image of me wearing a little cap with some wires out of it, so I figured this was all part of the plan.

He let me know that they would be monitoring my sleep by camera, as well as through a variety of different ways that would take about an hour to implement. An hour. Okay, so maybe not a simple little hat. Next thing I know he is taping electrodes to my face, gluing them to my scalp with what I can only describe as industrial strength super glue, and putting Velcro belts around my waste. I am laughing and saying things like, ‘but you guys know I’m an insomniac, right?’ He then taped two boxes to my shoulder and waste, which had about a hundred wires coming out of it (which attached to my face and head) and then strung the wires down my legs and taped more electrodes on my calves. And the cherry on top, an oxygen detector apparatus that he inserted into my nostrils and then wrapped around my ears like I had emphysema. At this point I looked like a cross between a hospice patient and C3PO, (I have a photo, but I am FAR too vain to post it) and I assure you, sleep under these constraints was not going to happen. Positivity be damned, there is only so much I can take.

So after he finished covering me head to toe in wires he said – as if it were nothing – 'okay, so now just do what you do and then fall asleep as per usual and we’ll see you in the morning'. Yeah, okay, I always go to bed looking like I just stepped out of the Matrix main frame. So there I lie, window blind banging, radiator blasting heat like it was the Sahara, with wires covering me like a highway and the little boxes digging into my side and shoulder every time I tried to roll over and I thought to myself, it would be far simpler to down two valium with a shot of tequila and call it a night.

The next morning, after a pretty restless night (I think I managed a few hours after having two nurses come in to fix the window and adjust the radiator) I have never been so happy to 'de-wire' in my life. It of course took 45 minutes to get the glue off my head (this entailed a bottle of nail polish remover and a very patient nurse) and resulted in several small bald patches around my scalp, but who’s complaining, there’s pretty much nothing I won’t do for a good night’s sleep.

Happy Thursday all. 


Monday 29 April 2013

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM


When my husband first told me about the following news story, I didn’t believe him. I not only didn’t believe him, I actually laughed at him and told him that no one in his or her right mind would ever want to do such a thing (not to mention who would choose to be the financiers behind a seemingly improbable project such as this). Then of course he showed me the article and I realized, oh my god, we truly are headed in this inconceivable direction; the direction of space that is. 

A group of scientists in New York announced a contest, if you will, in which a member of the global public could volunteer to go live their lives on Mars. Let me re-emphasize what that means, one’s WHOLE life (or what's left of it) on Mars. One way, no return, once you commit, you are not coming back (as it takes 7 months to even get there, and apparently an extended period of time in that atmosphere changes your bone density or something like that – and drives you totally stark raving bonkers. Sorry, that last bit is my opinion).

A foundation called The Mars One Organisation has now opened itself to applicants wanting to take this one-way journey into space to spend the rest of their days in an inflatable habitat. Let’s break this down for a moment before we go any further. For me, it’s bad enough to get me on an Easyjet flight with a bunch of strangers. Now, if you told me that not only would I have to fly on an Easyjet plane that was a fraction of the size, eat food out of a tube, and sit with a bunch of strangers in this claustrophobic tin can for seven and that's before I even landed?? Can you say FORGET ABOUT IT?!

So the most absurdly surreal (and slightly macabre) catch of this whole arrangement, they want to film it all for a reality television show. Their goal: to film the selection process, the journey, the landing, the life. But of course they do. “Life on Mars. Forever!” Think of the sponsorship money the creators of this project are all dreaming of, “Life on Mars, with Starbucks Coffee! Life on Mars with Brietling watches!” Cause time is important when you’re counting down the days until the aliens appear or you kill the guy next to you. The project in totality will cost around 6 billion dollars and they hope to raise most of it by selling the ‘astronaut’ selection process, launch and landing as a TV show and of course charge applicants to apply to go on this insane adventure (it’s around $38 bucks to apply). Apparently even today, visitors can go to the website and start voting on which applicant they like the best. Let’s put a wager on how many big bosomed blonds are ending up on that rocket, shall we? The final round will be an internationally broadcast show in which six teams of four compete for the chance to get stuffed in a rocket and blasted off of Earth.

Entries from countries all over the world will compete against one another to make their way to the years of training that awaits them. So on that subject, let’s talk about training. How does one actually train to live on another planet in an inflatable habitat forever?? No training process in the world, in my mind, can prepare you for the fact that you’re about to go live on a planet with nothing remotely familiar, no cars, nature, AIR, real food, friends, or blessed coffee shops. I mean, space coffee, for life?! Get serious. And one must reiterate, you're not living in a condo up there. It's an inflatable habitat. Even a New York real estate agent would have a hard time selling that one. Then again, as the organizers said, if you need to smell flowers and run through the trees on any given day, you’re not the one for this trip. 

Of course this all brings up so many questions I’m not even sure where to start. For starters, who is going to own Mars then? If we’re colonizing it, does that mean we now own it? Cause something tells me that won’t sit well with the Russians and Chinese. And what about food, or shall I say real non-manufactured food? You’re telling me they’re going to live on space food forever? Or plumbing? Or schooling, or entertainment for godsakes. It’s all well and good in the beginning when you’re thrilled to be on Mars, but after a few months, when the reality sets in that you’re staring at red clay day after day with a handful of other people, trust me, you’re going to need something to do. Not to mention, what if these people start to get on each other’s nerves? Merely the idea of this reeks of a Lord of the Flies denouement.

The TV geniuses that brought us shows like the Kardashians and the Shark Hunters, claim that the public will form a bond with the participants that will last a very long time (which begs another question: are these chosen ones going to procreate up there? Birth on Mars. Oh my god, please someone tell me this is a joke!)And yet what I believe they are failing to ask themselves is the biggest question of them all: how long will these chosen people last?

For as complicated as Earth can be (or as complicated as we make it) I’m fine with staying right here with my non inflatable house and my ability to come and go as I choose whilst drinking a decent cup of coffee. Thank you very much. But good luck to the rest of you eager space travelers. 

Happy Monday. 


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