A man is not tired, he is exhausted

That line comes from Dead Poets Society, where Robin Williams explains that language was made to woo women. Today, I have done no wooing of women, but I have written some copy for law firms and a company that provides data security. I’m hoping they sell.

Armed with a couple cups of cheap, shitty grocery store coffee, I’m not tired, but I am exhausted. It’s almost 2:30am and I’m still wired, but my neurons are firing only passibly for coherent expression of my thoughts. I haven’t been sleeping all that great lately, and last night with six hours of consecutive sleep and then an afternoon nap today, I felt like I was catching up.

Catching up enough to help meet my deadlines for the next day anyway. I have three posts left, due tomorrow at 10pm. I also have a sink full of dishes I have been ignoring for the last few days. With dishes and other various household chores, and no doubt a shit ton of procrastination, I have to write around 6,000 words tomorrow. I would start tonight, but I’m fried. I might be awake. But I’m not really functional for the fine-motor brainwork writing content requires.

Everything sorta feels dreamlike. If I can get these done in the next 20 hours, I’ll be good. I can take a little time for myself to reduce the burnout this can create. I’m burning the candle at both ends sometimes, but at least the assignments have picked up. The last two months was a desert when it came to work. I’m hoping this trend continues with more assignments.

I would like to have a chance to do some more edits. Lately I’ve been seized up when it comes to what I should do and what I need to do. Sometimes what I want to do gets lost between them. I need to work better on time management. Working at the university really screwed me up for motivation.

Not to mention the phenomenon of working hard for something just generally means that someone who doesn’t will just come along and take whatever I’ve got. Which also sucks.

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