It’s tough for me.
Wind the clock back
My first year at UCSD there was some essay due. I procrastinated, stayed up late the night before kind of working on it, and at a certain point pulled out the syllabus to see the penalties for turning in an essay late.
Then I went to sleep. Because I was tired.
Strawberry Fields Forever
This section title has nothing to do with this post, other than to illustrate how nonsensical I get when sleep is calling.
I feel it around my eyes, heavy. My chest and upper body are going, “Hey, Andy, we think you should sleep.” My mind thinks that I shouldn’t write this because it’s late but also thinks I should write it because it is late, because I want to write something, because I haven’t lately…
…and the other post I have open on a segment of the Backbone Trail and another on my Half Dome and Yosemite experience, well, I’m not gonna work on those right now.
Most essays I’ve worked on in the past ten years are intertwined with procrastination, fatigue, alarms and snooze buttons, and early mornings. A decent amount of hurried paces to get to class on time, and a decent amount of relaxed paces because I won’t get to class on time.
Sleep, just do it
At the moment, classes aren’t a thing in my life. Writing, creative works, commitments to other people, backpacking, resting, healing—all these things are.
It’s almost midnight.