Out of It
I feel simultaneously "with-it" and "out-of-it" to odd proportions. My car isn't starting again, and I'm not getting enough sleep to the level where caffeine levels that would normally send me bouncing off the walls have failed to lift the haze.
However, when the haze lifts - when I get enough sleep, or get something science-y done properly and feel like a worthwhile human being, I'm writing again. I guess I'm strange in that I can't have one without the other - no real progress on writing without some scientific pursuit in my life. I can go a while without writing but with researching, though, and then the damn breaks and I write close to 50,000 words in a few weeks. I'm strange, it would seem, but we knew that already.
Grad school continues to be good for me, though. So all's well in the long-term, even if tonight I'm wondering whether my head and my pillows are truly separate entities like other people claim.
However, when the haze lifts - when I get enough sleep, or get something science-y done properly and feel like a worthwhile human being, I'm writing again. I guess I'm strange in that I can't have one without the other - no real progress on writing without some scientific pursuit in my life. I can go a while without writing but with researching, though, and then the damn breaks and I write close to 50,000 words in a few weeks. I'm strange, it would seem, but we knew that already.
Grad school continues to be good for me, though. So all's well in the long-term, even if tonight I'm wondering whether my head and my pillows are truly separate entities like other people claim.