The insomnia, the amitryptiline and the maroon Allegro

I've undergone some kind of metamorphosis. It started at 5.38 am on Tuesday when I awoke, having had maybe not 4 hours sleep and returned to bed unable to sleep again.

I got up and managed to get through an eco-critcism lecture and a child lit lecture but I felt so wrecked after weeks of insomnia and I decided this was the final straw. I skipped Laura’s writing for children seminar and visited the local apothecary. He prescribed amitryptaline and after taking it I slept for about 12 hours but it wasn’t restorative. It was a very light slumber punctuated by students celebrating halloween raucously outside my window. In the morning I awoke feeling awful- despite the 12 hours- but not quite the same kind of awful. Whilst I'd been in that strange sleep but not sleep I felt like my brain was whirring like a laptop doing millions of calculations. I felt like I was doing some kind of necessary work on myself. And I could at least attend class.

Later in the afternoon I slept a few more hours but this time it was good sleep because the sleeping pill had worn off. Then I slept again in the night and again had no issues with not being able to get off back after I awoke for a toilet break. At around 10 I awoke from deep, quality shut eye. So in two days I slept maybe 24 hours or more instead of 16 and goodness did I feel human compared to what I felt before.

In Wednesday morning dream I dreamt about my maroon Austin Allegro, which I don't possess in real life but turns up every now and then in the dream world. It may be also be other colours. Then I awoke somehow knowing that I was going to stop sabotaging my time at Bangor. It was as if all that sleep had somehow reprogrammed me. The fear and anxiety were all strangely gone. So I went to an audition for the film society Thursday evening. Spent half an hour waiting in the wrong audition because the bloody drama society were auditioning in the same building but it didn’t matter. There was a girl outside the auditioning organising the audtionees and she was really nice. Like a flight attendant in first class nice. Like receptionist of the year.

A deep voiced mature student who I danced with the penultimate time I went to salsa came out the audition. I didn’t mention her but she’s from California- I’d say mid to late thirties- and in salsa she prefers to dance the lead. She stood flirting with the receptionist for about ten minutes. I guess everyone wants to hang with the really nice person. I think the flight attendant was straight but she enjoyed the attention and caressed her neck.

I then did my bit. It was a bit of a joke because they gave me this script from Pulp Fiction- a boyfriend and girlfriend getting ready to rob a fast food joint- which was so badly printed I could barely read it. But I did quite well and I was so pleased with myself because I felt bullet proof. Where had my anxiety gone? Was it swallowed by an avalanche of sleep?

But to rewind, on Monday I was sat in Raisa's child lit lecture wondering why I was even there. Yes, it's a requirement but I've got wise to the fact that I won't be doing an exam on any of these books she's lecturing us about because I'm doing the creative writing component. All I have to do is write a children's story and show how it's 'influenced' by a children's book I've read chosen from a large list they’ve give us which isn’t even necessarily one of the books they lecture us on.

At the beginning of Raisa's lecture she said, "It's nice to know that you've made so many friends, that there is so much talking. So that's really encouraging." She didn't comment on how discouraging it was that I had made none.

In the eco crit lecture on tired Tuesday I killed the boredom by talking to Lorane on Whatsapp, a woman I dated for a few weeks last year. I was running unsuitable names for a new YouTube account by her. Lost in Bangor, Bang her in Bangor, What an absolute Bangor, etc. Zoe (the lecturer) was playing Dylan Thomas too loud for my tinnitus so I stood outside. It reminded me that I need to progress things on that front so I went to disability services to arrange an appointment about my ear, (which I forgot about later and did not attend). After that I bumped into a professor in the library who had given the mature students a talk during the welcome week. She asked me how things were going. I said studies fine, but no social opportunities for mature students. She said call Paul, he'd love to have a drink with me. I don't know who Paul is. Perhaps I'll email her and ask. Then it was a child lit lecture again given by Alex on Peter Pan. He said Barrie would be locked up today and, "Quite rightly so."

After Alex's Peter Pan lecture I asked him how it fitted into the scheme of things for me. He said he didn't know, ask Lisa. Lisa flumbled something about how I should now be seeing themes running from all these stories. Can’t say I am. I would have to say that sitting through introductions to children's novels has not been that creative juicy and increasingly I find myself daydreaming. What is the ruddy point in reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, Robinson Crusoe, Peter and Wendy, The Lion and the Witch, and Harry Potter, and Dark Materials and so on when at the end of it all we're not required to write a novel style narrative, but a 1500 word piece? Isn' it like spending weeks being lectured about all the workings of a plane and then designing an arm rest at the end of it? If we’re only writing 1000 or 1500 words why don’t we just focus on stories of that length? Why not write four or five stories in a semester, not one pathetic one at the end? Anyway, it’s a whole different style of writing. C.S Lewis would take up 1500 words just getting you into the wardrobe. It's bullshit, it's just to minimize the work the lecturers have to do. Which is fair enough. Okay, rant over.

So yes, after not being able to sleep in the afternoon I took drastic action. Wednesday morning I had thinking, writing and speaking with Matthew Durham. I feel so sorry for Matthew, we all turn up never having done the assignment he’s asked us to do properly and never being able to say a damn thing about it that shows we are not all a bunch of nitwits. Today he asked us about the eco-criticism lecture. Although my brain was utterly fogged from sleep-deprivation and I wasn’t even in the lecture at times or texting Lorane I gave the most constructive input but even what I said was garbage and cobbled from a handout I had speed read. I asked Matthew privately, why do we need to keep looking at essays through all these different filters? Why not just look at it holistically (y,know, use your common sense). He said something along the lines of these sixth formers need arm bands to help them swim with because they can only see surface meaning. I guess I see what he’s saying. I’m probably moaning about nothing. I’m not moaning. Goodbye.

No wait. Thursday. Guess what? Another class with Diane where I HADN'T DONE THE HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT. I promise, I really do, that is the old October James. The November James would never allow such a thing to happen on his watch.

Friday and Saturday I wrote the 1st draft of my Keats essay, which is due Nov 10. Quite pleased with it for a first go but needs refinement. Having sleeping problems again. I can only seem to sleep four or five hours a night. Might need to dance with amitryptiline, dream of maroon Allegros.