Signs of Life

When I’m deep into a project, either by choice or by virtue of a deadline, I lose track of time. And at present, I am staring at the proximate — very proximate — finish line of a project that has kept me challenged for a number of months. And while I’m pretty beat (running on caffeine, adrenaline, and way too little sleep), I am so immersed in what I’m doing that I literally don’t notice what day it is!

I’m also a bit of a walking, talking zombie — living between two rooms in my rented space, while maneuvering between various stacks of references and papers in organized piles.

Do note that I said stacks and papers, which are actual objects. I am not working in a virtual world in these last critical stages, but rather, a tactile and tangible one. I have literally not been on my laptop in days, not been on social media, and thus, understandably, have received a few tentative (and kind) inquiries as to signs of life…

For those who have emailed without prodding, attempting to reassure themselves that I haven’t tumbled down some deserted staircase (and been eaten by wild dogs), thank you for checking on me. Ditto, to my sons, who (so adorably, sweetly, persistently) call and say, “Mom, just checking on you.” And to anyone else who happens to pop by this currently beleaguered daily plate, I promise, my end-of-job finish line is so close I can almost touch it, and I hope to be back to a more regular rhythm of writing soon.

I must admit, I marvel at the fact that through all kinds of projects including two years of contracting work that demanded 50 and 60 hours of my time each week, I nevertheless managed to post here daily — for five years. Why don’t I seem able to do that any longer? Am I just getting old? Are the years of sleep deprivation catching up? Is it the fact that the world of blogging has been changing? Has my motivation shifted? Is it my daily consternation (and discouragement, dismay, depression…) at our political climate? Am I constrained by the divisive nature of nearly everything we encounter online these days?

Maybe I’m suffering from too little coffee — I purposely cut back about a week ago, fully aware that my consumption had crept up to eight (strong, black) cups a day, which was not a good thing. (I’m back to three, which seems fine.)

And so, I take a breath, but only for a moment to very quickly post these words. I don’t dare take more. My reality for so many years (and with no end in sight) is precisely this — periods with too little work (or none at all), and others when I’m overwhelmed with it.

This isn’t a rollercoaster I would recommend to anyone, and it isn’t how I chose to live. I wish I had the skill to somehow (miraculously?) even it all out. But I don’t, which doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying. In the meantime, exhausted or not, when I have work, I do work. That frequently means starting at 5 a.m. or earlier, and sometimes I’m still at it at 10 at night.

Time for news? For morning musings? For (self-indulgent) wordplay?

Not so much.

For now, I’m grateful for any project that pays me for my skills, and ideally, keeps my mind sharp and my sense of purpose high.

 

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