Last night I didn't get to sleep til after 3 am and didn't get up til after noon. I shouldn't've had that much trouble since I woke up at 11 yesterday thanks to my alarm. That was the first time I'd used my alarm just to make sure I'd get up before noon. Traditionally, during my periods of unemployment in Chicago, I'd sleep in later and later, but only for 8 hours a night. Now I'm sleeping almost 10 hours a night, although I had been able to get up before noon, until today.
I'm not sure how my body will react to re-employment. I've had some anxiety, since I quit my job, when I had a morning engagement. It's like my body didn't think these engagements were what I should be doing, like I was moving in the wrong direction. Actually, the only morning engagement I can think of was riding along with Noah for his Lasik consultation. It turned out to be pointless from a practical perspective, because Noah's car is a stick, which I don't know how to drive, and they didn't even dilate his pupils. Emotionally speaking, though, it was great, because we hung out in a coffee shop near the clinic in Bryn Mawr, tackled random subjects in "free writing" exercises and read each other our hilarious impromptu pieces.
Most likely, neither Noah nor my college friend Emily will be moving in with me, which kinda sucks. But I posted the vacancy on craigslist and set up a tour for tomorrow. By the way, if anybody knows somebody looking for a $400 apt in Uptown after May 15, e-mail me. Thanx.
It occurred to me today that submitting writing samples to City Pages and elsewhere might be an excellent way to get me through this "rough patch." Maybe putting everything I've got into writing (which I consider to be my calling) and handing my work over to (apparently) demanding literary authorities to be judged is just what I need to feel like I've accomplished something and am moving toward a worthwhile, fulfilling goal. I just wish it didn't sound so corny. If I wanted to, I could probly re-write it to sound cool, but this is my blog and no one can reject it since it's already published, so I'd rather keep the original, unadorned version of the sentiment. It feels truer.
I need to hang out with my friends more. I've been pretty isolated. That's by far the toughest part. Loneliness seems to be the great plague of our age. We've given up far too much meaningful human contact for technology. This afternoon I attended the Live Action Set's bowling party to celebrate their first year as a non-profit. It was really nice to hang out with those cool people. But I was anxious thinking about how soon it would be over and wondering when I'd get to hang out with those people (or people like them) again. Why should those times be the exception and not the rule? Seems like they had a lot more of that in the olden days.
My emotions continue to gain strength. At the bowling party I chatted with a girl who was really cute and nice and interesting, although I fell prey to the same old anxiety when she talked to other guys (esp. one young, attractive guy) or anyone else. It feels great to want things again (esp. girls, not that they're "things"), but there's a downside: the risk of losing them becomes real again too. This girl does burlesque and she's performing tonight. Not sure if I'll go without a companion, even though I have a car so I could go by myself. But don't bet on it.
Author's Note: If the title of this post evokes memories of sports training montages from 80's movies, then I've done my job.
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