Wednesday, September 11, 2013


Oh, how I love to sleep. Well, I say that I love it, but a more accurate term is that I'm too weak to fight it. I am not a morning person, so to me, sleep is the best part of the morning and being up at that time of day robs me of precious time away from my pillow. The sun is too bright, I'm squinting and dealing with chipper morning people is more annoying than attending an Up with People rally. Fuck you and your goddamn A.M. smile.

I am definitely a night person. I have been one since as long as I can remember. I love the night. Less squinting and those morning assholes are usually tucked away in bed. You're able to read, watch movies or TV, and generally be by yourself. I have a feeling being a night person and being introverted are related somehow.

But I am also cursed. (Bwahahaha!) Well, not cursed, more afflicted with a seizure disorder caused by something (2 somethings now) in my brain. In order to still function in society, and not placed in a sanitarium like epileptics in days past, I need to take medication. Those meds come with awful side affects, mainly drowsiness. So, being a nighthawk and having a day job means little sleep during the week. Right now I could easily rest my head on the desk and sleep for a couple of hours. I frequently fall asleep while sitting in my office - just tiny naps that last as long as it takes for my head to bob down to my chest. I catch up on the weekends, which means marathon sessions of sleep that eats up most of my Saturdays and Sundays. Monday shows up much too quickly and the cycle continues.

Being tired during the day, and without having nighttime to wake me up, I tend to fall asleep when I get home most days. This nap can last between 20 minutes and two hours. (This also helps the whole awake at midnight thing.)

If on the rare occasion my brain likes to remind me that there are things attached to it, my head goes all screwy. A wave hits me, I'm confused, adrenaline rushes and then it is all followed by exhaustion. I can usually sleep an entire 24 hours if something like this occurs. On even rarer cases, my whole body convulses and I'm out for the better part of 48 hours or longer, with very sore muscles.

But this is a writing blog, or a blog written by a writer, or the ramblings of a wannabe writer; what's the point? Not that anyone has read this, but the point is that it leaves little time for writing. I do have other responsibilities: full-time job, a house to take care of, single parent, etc. For me to be a writer, I have to take a larger chunk of my waking life, a bigger percentage than some, and dedicate it to putting words onto blank screens. This tends to allow for a certain type of laziness, as writing isn't as important right now as other things. Even now, this post is nothing but an exercise in keeping myself awake. I should be doing other things, but my eyelids are so heavy. A yawn feels good, as does the involuntary shutters of my body as I stretch.

It takes a long time to produce anything worthy, and for me, I'm just handicapped with having less time to do it. Oh well.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Rise of the Phoenix

It's been so long, but behold the rising of the Phoenix!

OK, so emerging from the basic malaise, slip-ups, depressions, wrong turns and general shittiness of real life has been slow, incredibly slow, but I am determined to push forward and start the writing thing again. During this long period where nothing I've written was published, people continued to ask me things like, "you write?", "have I ever heard of you?", "what are you doing in my apartment?", and "should I call the police?" Let me answer: yes, probably not, looking for stuff to steal, and yes, you should.

Why now? Because I can.

Settling back into the single life at this point in my life is actually pretty great. I know who I am and there is no one there who tells me what I can/cannot (should/should not) do. It's my life. No longer do I have to please someone else. There are no compromises. If I want to spend my Sunday writing and ignore the laundry: fucking great. If I want to read a book on craft instead of attending some BBQ I'm going to hate: bonus! Also, if I want to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet and do precisely that, the only person who is going to hate me is me. I already have a low opinion of myself, so why would I care?

So, where do I start? To tell you the truth, I've probably forgotten everything by now. I'm not even certain the sentences in this blog post are all grammatically correct. Probably not. That riff with the questions? I have no idea how to structure that sentence. Commas after quotes with punctuation marks inside? Does anyone know?

One thing I have done is bought a book on grammar as a refresher.

Cliff Notes even.

If it's good enough for David Foster Wallace, it's
 good enough for me. Just don't expect Infinite Jest 2.

I've also started writing again, which is a biggie. 600 words the other day.

I was never one for the "write everyday" garbage. Show me someone who sits at their computer and writes everyday, and I'll show you a guy who most likely spends that time searching for porn. If you run into someone who says they write everyday, check for calluses on their hands and shame in their eyes.

Who knew Quagmire was left handed?

So, here I go again. Wish me luck.