OZY Daily Dose

Insomnia sucks. It interferes with your physical and mental health and can feel like an impossible situation. Trust me, an intermittent sufferer who, for seemingly endless bouts, wakes up multiple times a night with that terrible can't-shut-off-my-brain thing. Insomniacs will try anything to get some sleep: herbal remedies, meditation, pills, sometimes a glass of wine.

The author is OZY's social and email editor.The breeze carried a sweet aroma from my Cuban espresso up to my nose, and I breathed in deeply. It was Day Three of my family's whirlwind journey through Cuba, a trip we began planning once U.S.-Cuban relations were re-established last summer. Sitting at the end of the long lunch table with the people I loved most, I peered out on Cojimar, a small fishing village just east of Havana.Stillness.Life can change in an instant, my mom always told me.

EUGENE, SIR: We went out the other night, me and my fiancée. We were going over wedding details at dinner when some guy came up, said hello, chatted for a bit and then left. My fiancée went back to wedding details. So I had to ask, “Who was that?” She told me to “stop being so paranoid.” I wasn’t before she said that. We’re both 30, and I had been thinking that we had a good handle on each other’s pasts.

The new travel ban is top-of-mind these days as we hear stories about people being detained at airports, and U.S. border personnel denying them access. Some officials have dismissed it as an inconvenience — and, indeed, it’s hard to imagine how traumatic it is to be stopped and possibly detained, with no control over your fate.

No matter how many late-night strolls Roger Goodell takes to the wishing well, the NFL commissioner's least favorite development continues to gain steam. In perfect alignment with the rest of our lives, the NFL has become a hotbed for bullheaded political and social commentary.

In this occasional series, OZY takes to streets and neighborhoods across the globe to ask a simple question: "How was your day?"Lisa MontgomeryThe Swiss AlpsEvery morning begins the same. Or pretty much the same. It begins in isolation, blessed isolation. Me, alone in the sensory deprivation tank, the water engulfing me. I can feel it drawing the toxins out of my pores. I feel so much cleaner since I arrived at the wellness center.

It was the year 2000, the dawning of a new age, or at least a new millennium, and post the realization that the world would not fry when the calendar clicked over from partying like it was 1999. Americans' thoughts at the end of January, the 28th to be exact, turned to Super Bowl XXXV. Location? Tampa Bay, Florida. The Baltimore Ravens were playing my hometown heroes, the New York Giants, and I had pulled into Tampa to cover the event and its attendant lunacy as a member of the press.

Because it’s time for your weak stomach to stop getting in the way of a fine meal. Imagine strolling through a medieval town — cobblestones, little churches, big churches, historically faithful shopping with present-day prices. Then you come across a sign on the wall with an arrow pointing toward a tiny food boutique: Your first reaction might go something like this: shock, followed by laughter, followed by more laughter and then some curiosity. But you’re in Norcia, so relax.

EUGENE, SIR: This past summer I fell in love with the woman of my dreams. We were perfect for each other. The problem? We were both married. Me, 19 years. Her, 18. We both love our kids and didn’t want to hurt them. But we were lost as to what to do. We planned on telling our spouses soon and letting the chips fall where they may, but you’ll notice I’m using the past tense for everything. You see, she was killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve.

My parents divorced before I could remember what was going on. What ever had happened, though, had made her hate him and, in turn, me. She would remind me that my blue eyes were the same as my dad's and her distaste for those reminders was a factor in her leaving me with him when I was 4.Taking care of me, though, seemed to be the least of his interests. When he'd hang out with women or just didn't want to deal with me, he'd lock me in my room and would rarely feed me.