Tag: writing

Week in, week out

I started February rather well. I was writing everyday. There were these ideas in my head. Those ideas became words. Those words were put to paper… er… keyboard. The keyboard… alright, this isn’t working. Anyway, I had unofficially decided to go for a post every day. By the 5th day I was too busy during the day and too tired at night – big shock, eh? Inevitably my idea to just skip a day soon turned into the typical week and then some hiatus.

No biggie, it’s not like I have that many people check here on a regular basis. But the point has always been to write – whether here or elsewhere.

You may have noticed on Tweethead or Friendface, I’ve posted some links over to certain articles on The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit. If you actually bothered to follow those, you might have realized that they were written by me. That’s right, I’m now on another site, too. But unlike my failed/abandoned music blog, it’s life does not rely solely on me, therefore it’s likely to survive the week.

You see, my friend Chris (he of the aforementioned Gray Flannel Fame) asked me a ways back if I’d be interested in writing for him. Initially there was some scoffing, seeing as how my own blogs demanded so many words I couldn’t possibly spare any. But as time went on and my annual music posts weren’t really building any traffic I figured, why the hell not? While there are still designs in my head regarding a second failure at a solo music blog, nothing says I can’t review something for his site while continuing to babble incoherently on mine. HE DOESN’T OWN ME!

Where was I? Oh yeah, if you get a chance, check out my recent review for the new Iron & Wine, it’s pure genius (the album that is, the review is pure dreck). Hopefully I’ll get a new review up there at least once a month so Chris doesn’t keep harassing me. And in between perhaps some effort to lend my witty way with… you know… words to some other topics of interest… note… other things.

Oh yeah, this is going to work out real good…

Wake me up before you…

I used to be a morning person. Alright, to be fair I was an anytime person. The Woman has said that I’m the only person she knows that you can wake up in the middle of the night and expect to be completely functional and rational within 2 minutes. Some call it a gift, I call it… useful.

But while I could easily stay up until 2 and still be bright eyed and bushy tailed at 7 am for years, that came screeching to a halt at the most inconvenient time. A few months before the little moppet was born sleep started to become an issue for me. And then she was born. And, I don’t know if you know this, but newborns can cause trouble for your sleep habits. My night times went from only needing 5 hours or so to needing 8 hours to only getting 3 hours. Kids sure are inconvenient.

I don’t feel like rehashing the whole sleep progression thing again. Kayleigh has become an excellent nighttime sleeper these days, and that means that we get to sleep in past 7 am 99% of mornings. Of course not much further than that, mind you, since my internal alarm clock is now pretty much permanently wired for 7:15. Initially we were so afraid of this new morning routine not lasting that we packed our evenings with as much TV watching, Internet surfing, time wasting activities we could muster. That started a very bad habit of staying up later than was good simply to maximize the adult time – but without really doing anything beyond clearing the DVR.

So now I’m thinking that I need to re-wire myself back to being a morning person. It’s time for me to get up before Kayleigh and actually accomplish things. When she wakes up I should be sitting at my computer writing and listening to music while already showered, shaved and fed. For this to work some boundaries need to be put in place. Stop watching the umpteenth rerun of Scrubs simply because it’s on TV. Don’t try to start typing up a post at 11:30 with eyelids already drooping. And for goodness sakes, give Angry Birds a rest already!

Seriously, those green pigs can wait ’til tomorrow.