The Deserted Bandwagon

Author: MATT KUNZWEILER

If you're like me, the time you most enjoy at Middlebury is the time you're unconscious. I often have a good time while I'm awake, alert and engaged - but when I'm asleep, I'm in a guaranteed state of bliss. I love it. I love it so much that I nap while I'm supposed to be in class, while I'm in class, in the library, at the Grille, at my desk, on my couch, in the shower, on the john.

But maybe there's something disturbing about the fact that I enjoy being asleep more than being awake. I'm 21-years-old, in my so-called prime, a college student. I have friends, a car, gas money, opportunity, nothing holding me back, etc. But I'd much rather be asleep, oblivious to everything that's going for me - even if it means sleeping on my shoddy little dorm room mattress that has been uncomfortably cratered by decades of drunken sex dents.

The problem with sport napping (that's what I like to call it) is that I become completely useless while awake. The best sport nappers know that during their waking hours they must stay as inactive as possible, keeping a low heart rate and minimal awareness. That way, whenever there's an opportunity to fall asleep, they're already halfway there. I spend most of my day in this state of semi-consciousness. I mumble, squint, drag my feet and, in general, come across as being socially inept. I have trouble making my way through the brightly lit dining hall, I forget silverware, over-toast my cinno-raise bagel, realize my fly is unzipped and then, for almost five minutes, I stand like an idiot in the middle of everything, scanning the room for a secluded place to sit, a place where my food and I will not be accosted by perky, outgoing people. The chipper Midd-kids are my enemies. They just don't understand. They mean well, and I can appreciate this. But when they ask me how my week has been going and I don't even know what day of the week it is, this confuses me, sets me on edge, raises my heart rate and sets me another step away from sleep. If you really want to know how my week is going, shoot me an e-mail and I'll get back to you when I have the time and motivation. Until then, settle down.

But this is the time of year when greed sleeping becomes difficult. Professors who care nothing about me and my goal of perfect inertness assign time-consuming final projects, papers and presentations (which, by the way, teach me nothing). Still, I'm amazed how well I can sleep when I have grotesque amounts of work hanging over my head. I can nap for six solid hours the day before I have a major research paper due. Sleep is my only refuge from the guilt of laziness. It's the perfect answer.

A friend once told me that I'm "just practicin' for the grave." That comment raises some very profound existential questions, none of which I plan on answering in a column as obnoxiously cutesy and half-ass as this one. I'll try harder next week.