I need to sleep now. Well, in half an hour anyway. Hence this is gonna be a straight up run through of my day, because that seems to be the most recent thing that happened to me.
I woke up to my alarm after a rejuvenating, restful sleep. I’d stocked up on herbal teas yesterday and camomile filled my dreamscapes with fanciful escapism. I didn’t remember it, but I at least awoke feeling like sleeping had done everything it needed to.
[AN ASIDE] I don’t like sleep. I don’t like sleeping. I love dreaming, but don’t feel like it’s worth the sacrifice of consciousness required to manufacture it. I sleep because I have to, not because I want to. You know those douchebags who are all “food is fuel” and eat because it stops their body from shutting down? That’s me with sleep. I’ve been running on about 5.5-6 hours per night for the past 10 or so years and it works for me. Caffeine makes it easier (withdrawals notwithstanding) to circumvent my body’s need for it, but it’s not a long term solution. Consequently my life’s mantra for a while has been about burning double-ended candles. All of my girlfriends (barring the one who was almost me with a vagina. Turns out that’s not a complementary idea) have adored sleep and indulged in it as much as they could. As someone who wants nothing less than to rain on someone’s parade, this usually meant I’d lie in bed awake for awhile, read a book or pull out my phone. I’ve even known myself to just get up and write, if it kills time. Why the lengthy diatribe? I was basically just trying to explain why mornings aren’t a big deal for me. Sorry guys. If it’s any consolation I fail at basic societal functions like having a conversational filter [ASIDE DONE].
I listened to Kings of Leon‘s Aha Shake Heartbreak on the way to work. It’s something I often do when I’m trying to remind myself that they weren’t always a heinous conventional stadium rock act. Still a fun album. Many great singles.
Work was kind of a bust. On Wednesdays and Thursdays we do double logs, which basically means we do twice the work that we do on other days. To accomplish this, I, well… didn’t. Between facebookery, Reddit, a few poops (seriously, am I supposed to no longer find people farting funny just because we’re in a bathroom?) and chatting with co-workers, by the time lunch rolled around I’d done less than I’d usually done by that point on a normal (non-double) day.
Today was no normal day though. Thursdays are Magic the Gathering days. I’ve got a playgroup at work, we get together on Thursday around lunchtimes and play a few casual games. It’s a nice way to balance out all the hard work I do. On a day like today though? Well it’s just straight up indulgence. The other guy was slightly new (A.K.A. he hadn’t also been playing for 15 years) so I gave him a few tips and tried to help him with theories like “Who’s the beatdown?” and creating a gameplan from the start. Thursdays are the best lunch.
The afternoon was meant to be catch up for all the work I’d been lagging on. Really though, I just fucked around chatting with co-workers for a while. By the time I really got stuck in, I realised that I had a meeting with my brand manager in about 15 minutes. Well fuck, Emily. There went productivity.
The meeting was actually excellent. My brand manager has a really clear view for what she wants the station to accomplish and we see eye to eye in every way. I feel like it’s rare to have someone this adept at what she’s doing in a managerial position, which, as Murphy’s Law dictates, means she’ll inevitably get promoted and replaced in a matter of weeks. Shit.
By the time I’d finished up with her, it was about 4.30pm and I still had 4/6 logs left to go. Fair enough, I needed to pull my thumb out of my arse and put hand to keyboard. Luckily I’d done the tricky stuff already (guys, I doth’d professed too much earlier. It’s not like I hadn’t been doing my job) and breezed through the rest. I ended up staying until just after 6pm, but that’s fine. When you’ve got a job to do, you stay till the work’s done, right?
It just meant I couldn’t get away early enough to do a crossfit class before heading off to Queer as Fuck comedy night, my new favourite comedy room in Toronto. Held bi-weekly (heh, bi) at The Steady on Bloor, it’s the fucking best. Seriously, it’s refreshing going to an open mic that’s not populated with entitled white dudes poorly joking about rape and how “bitches be crazy”. Anyway, show was great, but my penance for my unfocused zeal today has meant that I need to get up tomorrow for a 6.30am class. Hence why I need to sleep now. That was one of the longest ways I could think of to get back to where we already were. It’s not the destination right, guys? It’s the tired cliché you use to get there.