Remember back when One Hundred Days had only just turned twenty-one. Its whole life was ahead of it, full of promise and potential (and alcohol). And then it hit thirty, which is practically over-the-hill by today’s standards. New technology frightens it. Younger blog posts just don’t seem to make sense, and One Hundred Days doesn’t quite get their strange choice in language.
That’s why I’m a night-blogger, people. Because I’m usually awake enough to filter shit like that out. Even though other, just-as-ridiculous things take the place of passages like the one above. Just observe the strange behavior from afar and appreciate knowing you probably aren’t one of the unlucky people who has to spend family dinners with me.
I’m writing this post early on for two reasons. Reason number one is that I have to work mid-shift today, thanks to my own scheduling, and so I won’t want to do much of anything by the time I get home. Reason two is that even in the event I did want to do anything once I get home, I’ve decided tonight will be spent enjoying a little World of Warcraft. My Shaman needs some attention, and I have to get ready for the excitement Blizzard promised with its 10th Anniversary business. The level of enthusiasm I still feel for this game disgusts me a little. Tomorrow, though my day off, will be spent resurrecting Thanatos into Wheatley, which means transferring several hundred gigs of data from my external hard drive, and writing.
Day Thirty – Ideas that drift around right before sleep
My name is Phil and I hoard notebooks. Blank notebooks, in fact. I buy them with the best of intentions, plotting to use them for jotting down ideas, keeping track of important information, or perhaps even journal writing. Whatever the reason, I keep on buying notebooks. I’m not really a hoarder in the terrifying, never-throw-anything-away-ever sense (and I know that people who are hoarders have their own battles to fight, so I’m trying to not make too much light of it).
Those notebooks are important in this post, because I now have a nightstand directly next to my bed. It’s mostly there to be the idea of a nightstand, as it lacks many of the standard nightstand amenities. It doesn’t have a lamp, nor does it usually act as my phone’s resting spot, because no outlets are close enough to the damn thing. I set my glasses on it when I’m sleeping, and the stuffed sloth I bought at Sarris Candies when I’m not. Most importantly, however, should be the absence of a notebook. It took a lot of self-restraint to avoid saying “the noteworthy absence of a notebook”, by the way. More self-restraint than I have since I had to put that phrase in the very next sentence. Noteworthy absence of a notebook just rolls off the tongue, really.
I had an idea for today’s post last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep. I’m pretty confident it was a good idea, but I could be mistaken. I recall, just as I fell asleep, feeling really certain this idea would make a great blog post. And then it was lost forever to that pre-sleep fog, which is probably also where other important things, like birthdays, where I put my wallet, people’s names, etc., end up. It didn’t have to suffer such an awful fate, however. I could have very easily documented this idea in, say, a bedside notebook. Such a notebook could live, complete with a pen or pencil companion, on my nightstand, ever-ready for ideas. This scenario would probably also call for a lamp, or my phone being close enough to act as a light source, but the idea’s there.
Herein lies the problem, though. It’s a hell of a lot easier to talk about having a notebook ready for those pre-sleep ideas than it is to actually write them down. I’ve said this before, probably upwards of a million times: sleep is wonderful. I love naps, which is probably why I don’t accomplish nearly as much as I should. When faced with the decision to get out of bed, put my glasses on, find a pen, find a notebook, and write versus staying in bed and snoozing a little bit more.
However, it’s important to push past that. Or, you know, at least be more prepared than I am with a notebook. Those ideas right before drifting off to sleep could be real treasures, and by not giving them their due attention you’re essentially tossing those treasures away. Throwing them, willingly, into a pirate ship you know to be doomed to face the fury of the Kraken. Don’t send your ideas off to their demise like that. I, for one, will be keeping a notebook, some pens, and whatever other things spring to mind on my nightstand from now on.
And now I just have to work on not taking so many damn naps and I’ll have a chance at actually accomplishing something. In closing, here’s a picture of the horrible, unspeakable torment I endured while writing this post.
Seventy days remaining.