For a good portion of my life, I spent my time doing the “responsible” thing. School. Work. Career plan. Good grades. Good behavior. And on it goes.
Then I picked up the pen again.
I feel in love with words all over again, looking forward to sitting in front of the computer tapping away ides instead of dreading the stiff cranking of academia. With that rush of love, I tossed aside the “should” of having a “sensible” career, which I spent the better part of six years trying desperately to achieve. And out the door went as many of the other “shoulds” I’d collected as I could handle leaving behind.
Unfortunately, I tossed too many.
It was recently brought to my attention—forcibly since I’m good with denial—that I can’t sleep worth crap during the morning. (I work 3rd shift at a factory for the sake of the bills.) Now, I’ve known how terrible trying to fight the sun is for a while, but there were so many good things to be had from sleeping in the morning. Cuddles with my love. Dinner with my love. Conversation with my love. And help from the same love in keeping my ass at the desk when it needs to get scribbling done. (Noticing a pattern. X-3 I’m hooked.)
The downside: requiring a 3 hour “nap” before work. Meaning, I could make pages or revise only to succumb to exhaustion the moment I met my goal for the day. So none of my other obligations got the attention I needed to give them.
Thus, under protest, I’m doing the responsible thing and keeping my butt awake until evening when I sleep best.