I believe I've come to a re-, re-, re-understanding of productive writing levels during high-stress times and emotionally-taxing life events. And while I've understood it like this before, I always thought it'd be different as my life got harder.
I've done some amazing things in a year, and I still don't believe how much I actually finished. Simultaneously, it was one of the strangest and most dangerous years my private life has ever experienced. Sometimes, I had to force myself to hit deadlines when my personal relationships were the absolute worst they've ever been -- like when a guy I was seeing came over at 9am as I was rounding hour 30 of straight writing, after I'd left his house earlier because he freebased in front of me. He was halfway through a solo mushroom trip and had tried to drive to Lafayette because he was having a mental breakdown. I had no choice but to talk him through it, delirious and angry and worried, knowing I had hours left before I finished my already-overdue articles. I still managed to finish everything that day.
On the other hand, I'm sitting here at my desk right now, blogging about how strong I am when shit hits the fan, and how focused I've become and how batshit last year was and all of the above horse shit, when I've got a list over there with one task checked off, on fucking Sunday. Why? Because this Sunday is an angel food cake compared to the one above, and the contrast was so stark, I had to write it down.
The only thing I can focus on right now is who's in my bed, curled up with a tiny kitten, living the dream. That is the only thing wrong with my life right now, and my productivity has been destroyed.
So basically, even though I've overcome what feels like a lifetime's worth of stress and missed hundreds of hours of sleep in the past year and it's made me feel like I could hit a deadline during the apocalypse, it hasn't changed the fact that I'm lazy and whimsical when I'm happy.
It is way harder to get shit done every time my heart turns into softened butter.
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Red Stick in the Mud
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