So I had this serious post all lined up in my head last night thanks to a conversation I had with Rachael wherein I was getting quite frustrated with myself and my perceived lot in life. Oh, I had all these great lines about the difference between giving in and giving up, about how what I was doing was one, but not the other. Frustrated words creating a fantastic mesh of emotion.
Then I fell asleep.
It’s all gone this morning other than the great concept—that doesn’t seem so great now. Sleep erased the magnificence and majesty leaving only a vague emotion and a general idea which doesn’t work so well in the light of day. I know that I should have written everything down, but there was a problem with that. Had I done that, I should have just written the blog post then and there. My mind doesn’t usually work in bite-sized snippets that can be jotted down on a notepad next to my side of the bed. And that was where I was, in bed with the light off and my head on the pillow. So because I’m lazy and i was tired and—well, how many other excuses do you want from me? It just didn’t work out. A pity that.
Sleep really is the great equalizer isn’t it? Actually, I lie. It doesn’t equalize—for me at least. It is one of those things that separates the wheat from the chaff, allowing the good ideas to stick with me while letting the bad ones slide through the cracks. I’ve tried the write everything down method, and I tell you, late at night, my mind spits out a lot of crap. Metric tons of the stuff. If I let it, I’d have notebooks upon notebooks filled with the stuff that would never be of any use for me. To make matters worse, I can’t write—physically—when I’m mostly asleep. My handwriting looks like a doctor’s prescription mated with an antelope currently on the run from a lion.
There’s a mental image for you.
To top it all off, I lack what is needed to write it down—the willpower to get up in the middle of the night to write anything down. Had I had that, then I wouldn’t be in the situation that I’m in. Nor would you be forced to read my ramblings on sleep and how it messes with my ability to write blog posts. Or novels. Or blog battle stories. Or one of a million other things. And you wouldn’t have to listen to me blather, either. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Regardless, I don’t think that it will change anything soon. Not unless I really start to suffer from it. I like the idea of it acting like a filter and protecting me for the horrible ideas. Enough bad ones slip through already. But never say never. It could change, given enough catalyst.
That catalyst might be insomnia, but it’d work.