You ever get one of those moments where you’re lying down, thinking about one thing, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about some old shit, and it messes you up really bad?
This is one of them.
It happens to me every once in a while. See, my immediate reaction to stress of any kind is usually to shut off and go to sleep. Most of the time, it doesn’t make things any better, but it does make me feel better – ergo, better prepared and equipped to tackle the problem. But sometimes, sleep can only worsen the problem. Maybe the item is due first thing in the morning. Maybe it’s something that only can be done within a certain time frame.
Whatever it is, the deadline is approaching, and it’s approaching fast.
(I admire the late Mr. Adams’ ability to relish the “whooshing sounds” that deadlines make as they fly by. It’s probably a skill that I should aspire to pick up along the way)
I’m not good with stress. It’s fair enough to say that, methinks.
Funny thing about me: I don’t usually get stressed about the big things. Failed a course? Retake the paper. Something’s on fire? Find water to douse it with. Car broke down? Find the nearest mechanic. The big obstacles are easy to handle because they’re obvious, and so are their solutions.
What I do get stressed about are stupid little things. Like when the key won’t turn properly in the keyhole. Or when the computer lags. Or when the phone runs out of battery all of a sudden, leaving me stranded in a crowded area with no cash to ride a taxi.
Or right now, when I need to write, but there are so many things calling for my attention that I cannot make my mind focus on any one of them. And if you’ve tried to write 3 essays at once before, you have an inkling of what I’m feeling right now. Before I can even properly think about how to write one of the essays, the other one pops into mind, calling – no, DEMANDING – for my attention.
They’re all urgent. They’re all important. More or less to the same degree and magnitude, too.
So what is there to do but to allow my brain to short circuit?
Here is the situation: I have an appointment at 11A.M. which I have to leave my place at 10A.M. for. I’ve been told that I should be bringing my résumé, a cover letter, and a portfolio of my work, all of which should be pretty damn epic, y’know, to reflect the damn epic nature of my writing.
Except sitting here with tired arms, tired eyes, and a brain that won’t work anymore, I don’t feel damn epic. I feel helpless. All I want to do is sleep.
Maybe I’ll try and take a hack at A Song For The Rain before giving in completely. I doubt it’ll come to anything, but never let it be said that I didn’t try.
As for work to be done, I think I’ll let tomorrow worry for itself.