These
back halves of each week are fucking killers lately... not killer
enough to stop, but I think I'm pushing myself to just about where my
limit is in terms of sleep, and I'm trying to figure out whether it's
worth continuing with this pattern or whether I'm losing productivity
by burning myself out so much three days/nights in a row
Thursday-Saturday.
On Thursday I get up at 5:30am to do cleaning, I finish that around 10:30, then go to the gym and get home around midday. If I haven't caved and bought breakfast by this point, then I eat something, write in this blog, and then figure out what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. I can pretty easily go without any sort of nap on Thursdays, because even if I've been drinking on Monday and/or Tuesday, I'm still pretty well rested. Comedy on Thursday night, and I get to bed in the hour before midnight.
Friday I wake up at 5:30am to do cleaning, I finish around 10:30 again, I don't go to the gym on Friday so I go home and hopefully haven't caved and bought breakfast so I eat something, write this blog, and figure out what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. If I didn't see anyone during the day yesterday, then I probably will today, maybe I'll have a random appointment to keep in the afternoon or something, and I'll always try and do some writing, and if I get time, read some of whatever book I'm on. I spend way too much time monging out on social media. I go to comedy and get to bed in the hour before midnight.
Saturday I wake up at 6:10am promising myself a nap after I finish cleaning, go to the gym, and get home around midday, by the time I've cleaned and exercised though, six hours have passed and my body is well and truly awake. No sleep. I shouldn't sleep anyway, I have shit to do. Most professional comics say they aim to write three hours a day. They don't actually do it, but they say they should, and so I should too, but I don't. I should though. All the time I was cleaning and at the gym I was thinking about comedy, maybe stopping for five minutes here and there to write down ideas that have been repeating in my mind for the half-hour previous. I remember to eat something. I write in this blog. I toy with the idea of lying down, but know that that will get me nowhere.
By Saturday night I am absolutely fucking ruined, and I get to bed in the hour before midnight, unless I'm going out, in which case I will find my sheets sometime in the twelve hours after midnight. Sunday I still have gigs though, so I can't sleep all day, and the Monday I have to get up at 5:30am again, clean, and go to the gym. Maybe I need a full rest day, or maybe I need to sleep in the afternoon, although I'm really hesitant to fall into that pattern as daytime sleeping feels like laziness.
There's no conclusion to that, so I'll leave you with this: the other day I almost used the word 'furtive' in a sentence. I thought about it long and hard – about thirty seconds, maybe not that 'long', but pretty long to be sitting thinking about one word when you consider it. In the end, I decided against it. To do something 'furtively', as I understand it, means to do it with a degree of secrecy due to embarrassment or shame, although I haven't looked it up just now, so I could be a little bit off. I noticed a few months ago that I didn't know what the word meant, so I looked it up, tried to retain the meaning, and now I'm almost at the point where it's part of my vocabulary – I'd say that point is definitively reached the first time the word is used correctly in a sentence. So I nearly got there the other day, but not quite. I reckon I could almost get away with a little furtive usage now though...
Maybe? Yeah? No? I don't know... that feels pretty close. Close enough for jazz I reckon. Tired, midday-Saturday jazz.
Peace, Taco.
On Thursday I get up at 5:30am to do cleaning, I finish that around 10:30, then go to the gym and get home around midday. If I haven't caved and bought breakfast by this point, then I eat something, write in this blog, and then figure out what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. I can pretty easily go without any sort of nap on Thursdays, because even if I've been drinking on Monday and/or Tuesday, I'm still pretty well rested. Comedy on Thursday night, and I get to bed in the hour before midnight.
Friday I wake up at 5:30am to do cleaning, I finish around 10:30 again, I don't go to the gym on Friday so I go home and hopefully haven't caved and bought breakfast so I eat something, write this blog, and figure out what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. If I didn't see anyone during the day yesterday, then I probably will today, maybe I'll have a random appointment to keep in the afternoon or something, and I'll always try and do some writing, and if I get time, read some of whatever book I'm on. I spend way too much time monging out on social media. I go to comedy and get to bed in the hour before midnight.
Saturday I wake up at 6:10am promising myself a nap after I finish cleaning, go to the gym, and get home around midday, by the time I've cleaned and exercised though, six hours have passed and my body is well and truly awake. No sleep. I shouldn't sleep anyway, I have shit to do. Most professional comics say they aim to write three hours a day. They don't actually do it, but they say they should, and so I should too, but I don't. I should though. All the time I was cleaning and at the gym I was thinking about comedy, maybe stopping for five minutes here and there to write down ideas that have been repeating in my mind for the half-hour previous. I remember to eat something. I write in this blog. I toy with the idea of lying down, but know that that will get me nowhere.
By Saturday night I am absolutely fucking ruined, and I get to bed in the hour before midnight, unless I'm going out, in which case I will find my sheets sometime in the twelve hours after midnight. Sunday I still have gigs though, so I can't sleep all day, and the Monday I have to get up at 5:30am again, clean, and go to the gym. Maybe I need a full rest day, or maybe I need to sleep in the afternoon, although I'm really hesitant to fall into that pattern as daytime sleeping feels like laziness.
There's no conclusion to that, so I'll leave you with this: the other day I almost used the word 'furtive' in a sentence. I thought about it long and hard – about thirty seconds, maybe not that 'long', but pretty long to be sitting thinking about one word when you consider it. In the end, I decided against it. To do something 'furtively', as I understand it, means to do it with a degree of secrecy due to embarrassment or shame, although I haven't looked it up just now, so I could be a little bit off. I noticed a few months ago that I didn't know what the word meant, so I looked it up, tried to retain the meaning, and now I'm almost at the point where it's part of my vocabulary – I'd say that point is definitively reached the first time the word is used correctly in a sentence. So I nearly got there the other day, but not quite. I reckon I could almost get away with a little furtive usage now though...
Maybe? Yeah? No? I don't know... that feels pretty close. Close enough for jazz I reckon. Tired, midday-Saturday jazz.
Peace, Taco.
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