Stories from a life in progress.

Sort of not

Assignments for the new writing gig come out mid- to late-morning most days, but today I haven't seen anything new pop up yet.  I have to say, I sort of don't really care.  This is how I am making money now, so I should probably care.  But my actual level of caring is ... sort of not existent.  Pretty actually really and truly not existent, to be honest.

I'm tired.  This being Friday, it's the end of a working week; but when I check my calendar I am reminded it's been two weeks of unremitting stress.  Some of it is good stress, the kind that comes from learning new things, or working hard to meet responsibilities.  Some of it has been not good at all, waiting impatiently to find out if I had a new gig or not, being nervous about what would be required and if I could hack it, being really terribly upset about the project that didn't go well.  The weeks have been full, and the weekends not very restful.  And I'm tired.

Last night was a late one, working up to the wee hours to help resolve a crisis, and this morning I got up late.  I haven't done much besides feed myself (and I needed to give myself a stern reminder to do that.  I haven't been taking care of all my basic needs very well, which in no way helps).  I'll keep an eye on my computer for a while to see if any work appears, and if it does I'll take what I can.  But I would be pretty okay with not getting any assignments today.  I'd be okay with having today off, and doing some of my own neglected work tomorrow.  And in the midst of it all, having a proper rest.  I'm no good as a writer if I can't think, and being tired saps my brain.  It makes me forget to do the basics, like feed and water myself regularly, and being hungry and dehydrated make me even less able to think.  It's time to recoup some energy and peace.  Because next week, it'll be time to get back to work.