Writing at Night

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.

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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…

backbone trail day two rough path

…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.

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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

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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.

Good night.

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