The truth is that some of us were never meant to have “normal” sleeping patterns ever. Covid19 or not. Tetw’ebuzabuza. To claim otherwise would be an attempt to run away from who we truly are which usually ends badly.
You’ll fight the one-more-chapter urge and close book at 2 am to get some sleep. Computer away. Lights off. Everything set for your ‘beauty rest.’ (What’s beauty rest anyway?) Suddenly a story intro is coming to life in your Medulla Oblongata (the actual brain part for thought is the Cerebrum, I just like the medulla oblongata nomenclature better, even if it’s really the part for involuntary actions like the covid sympu-tom, sneezing, okw’etsyamura) – I digress.
Ah, yeah. The story intro manifests. And that urge, that’s one urge you can’t resist I tell you. For people who have attempted, you know you’ll be miserable in bed thinking about it still. And when in the morning it is distorted, which it will most certainly will be – you’ll hate yourself because you have to summon the gods all over again.
If you have a deadline (should writers really have deadlines? We should have a debate on this question), you’ll write some uninspiring shit which you know the editor will be unimpressed by. But you’re already unimpressed by yourself anyway, so no amount of red lines and tracked changes can hurt you. You’re just there – a loss to yourself, giving the reader the bare minimum. Betraying the art. Now you’re asking yourself:
“Do I even deserve this gift?”
“Am I giving it my all?”
“Is IT giving me my worth?”
“Should I just get a corner office desk job in a telco or bank like everyone else from undergrad?”
Long story short, you don’t sleep. You grab the computer. Now it’s 3 am. Play some Kanye for inspiration. But that knee-grow is now a billionaire (and broke misogynists have suddenly changed their minds about KKW supposedly killing his future, idiots!) living in Calabasas, so that’s kinda annoying. Is it annoying because you’re stuck in a shit, undervaluing, underpaying economy or because we must eat the rich? You’re not sure so you drop that thought because it’s putting your politics to the test.
You just write. You write that intro, even if it might climax into just one paragraph. And maybe when you finally retire to bed, it’s 5 am. Or even 6 am. And you know, you just know the daughters and sons of daylight will be calling and texting you by 7 am.
What’s wrong with y’all? What’s up with that – calling people at 7 am EVEN with lockdown? Mulagawa? Can’t you call at 11 am?