I once heard that a New Yorker is always in search of one of three things: a mate, a job or an apartment. And if you are of one of the rare breeds that has all three then you’re probably out searching for a better version. Where did I hear this? Who knows, it may have been said in an episode of Sex and The City. One receives so much information in this city it’s hard to retain what you’ve heard from where, when, or whom.
But what if I’m not looking for any of the above? Not because I have it all but perhaps I’ve got other things on my mind. Like angsting over my writing, or losing the battle to insomnia and as a result sleeping late into the day only to find that once I do wake up I’m tempted to lie back down for a nap.
At first I felt guilty. I’m not being productive. Sleeping eleven, twelve hours a day, what the hell? What a bum! Who is this person I see in the mirror at three in the afternoon? But stressing about was not going to solve the problem it just made it worse. So, I forgave myself and decided to go with the flow.
Some days I’ll wake up and after ten minutes or so of contemplating rising for the day I’ll close my eyes and take a nap instead. Other days, I’ll get up, have breakfast and within an hour or two I’ll go and lie back down for a nap. These naps can last a mere twenty minutes or up to four hours. Other days, I won’t nap at all. You won’t believe me but I’m not a napper by trade. I never napped in high school or college. This nap thing is new and fresh like an apple at harvest time.
My psychoanalyst thinks I may be slightly depressed. I have an inkling I may be burnt out. But what does a burnt out depressed chick look like? I imagine her with dry brittle hear, bad skin and eating Hagan Daaz all day. I’m allergic to dairy, a freak about keeping my skin smooth and youthful and a bad hair day is unacceptable and I am depressed when I do experience one.
I guess I should worry but I’m pretty sure within the next few weeks my type-A personality will burst out and stamp out the lazy gal that is enjoying her winter blues. I can see me now as I jump up every morning at nine o’clock to blaze through the editing of my novel, tapping into my creative flow determined to complete my second novel by summer 2010.
Okay so it won’t happen in such an exciting manner. I will groggily rise at ten o’clock maybe eleven and angst about where to start first every morning, and then commit to crying over the believed fact that I’m a horrible writer and what do I really think I’m doing with my life. “Wasting my time, that’s what!” Then I’ll get a cup of tea and wish it was wine, but I have my rules for writing with a sober mind. Ahhh, sweet sorrow. I’ll be there soon enough. In the meantime I’ll enjoy these lazy days.