I have lost all track of time. If sleep is currency, I’m overdrawn. 8am comes too fast and I’m again in the grind. In a flash I’m finally eating at 10pm, when I realized lunch consisted of a quick wrap and a Mt. Dew. In a blink it’s instantly 2am and I’m still working on an invitation, designing a poster or illustration. The new house, work, RAF, freelance, and family has thrown the internal clock down the hallway, smashing it into tiny pieces. Lately it seems I am a chain smoker for projects. Starting one while finishing the other. It’s left me feeling like one big ashtray at the end of the night, or morning, or oh… whatever it is right now.
My philosophy… Get the job done. Sleep can wait. My head taunts me with words like “You may not get another opportunity to do X,Y,Z, so better get on it.” However, I’m slowly pushing myself to the break point of mental and physical limits. I’m finding that more and more I’m not respecting the value of rest. And with so much still to do… I ask myself, “will I ever get back from the ledge?”
Right now I’m not so sure.