Well, I’m tired.
I think the thing about waking up early to work is that you have to be asleep first, and then wake up.
I worked last night until one am, fell asleep, dreamt (another kind of job for me but I’ll not even go into that), was woken up by a youngster who couldn’t face the journey to the bathroom through a dark house and needed a guide (5am). I tried to facilitate this with my eyes remaining shut because I thought if I did this, it would improve my chances of going immediately back to sleep.
First of all, that’s a bad idea. The Lego minefield alone has to be gingerly navigated, not to mention all that furniture made out of wood scattered around, and you need your eyes for this. Even in the pitch dark you have a better chance than if you go into it totally blind.
Anyway, I couldn’t get back to sleep. My mind did that thing; all of you have been there. It’s that weird brand of thinking that belongs nowhere. Its not good enough material to ever speak of and yet it is somehow so riveting to your sad, tired mind that you can’t stop producing these thoughts.
The other problem with waking up early to work is that you’ve just added more work to your day. How much can a person work, after all?
This is a big question for me to ask. Maybe this is crux of it all for me. The Question.
I am the Queen of Working. I love working. I live to work. I love other workers, I love productivity, I love objects that are made by workers. I love talking about work, worrying about work, finding myself in my work. Some people walk in their sleep, I work in my sleep. “Don’t wake her up, she’s sleep working!”
I have to stop writing because I’ve got to work but I’m going to ponder this question. It would be good to come up with some theories. Since my book is essentially about how a person becomes themselves through their work, how work shapes you, and how a person strives to turn their ‘day job’ into their life’s work, I better ponder good.
God, what gobble-de-gook! I am however, very tired. Like that’s an excuse.