While attempting to get some sleep this morning, I thought of putting my thoughts into words using my phone's notepad. With the television turned off, my sagging gut pressed against the mattress, and with the nippy air augmenting the wind blowing from my electric fan , the outcome fell short of my loftier vision.
Apparently, my mind was too tired to even tell a story.
Sharing with everyone the creative output of such sleep deprivation. Let it be known that some of the blog entries I will publish from now on will be penned this way.
It's been a week to be exact since I transferred to the morning shift. It's also the first time I was able to enjoy a weekend rest day in ages. Life has never been this much gracious if I know the essence of gratitude.
But with my late nights spent rolling over my bed, switching from one sleeping position to another, and then waking up to the crows of roosters, and a glimpse of the indigo sky painting a morning scene on my window, one is always tempted to return to slumber.
Even when sinking under the blanket remains out of the question.
The demands of work, the endless grind to appease the client, and an order to be established to set a project in motion, inch me out of the bed. Never mind the crumpled face, the dizzy spells when standing on my feet, and this tired look even after taking a cold shower. The utter lack of rest doesn't show not only in my pallid appearance, it takes a toll on my well-being as well.
And I got no answer to stop this downward spiral.
The four-hour shutdown hinders me to make decisions, and lead. Half the time, the lethargy of thought and body give this impression of disinterest. No wonder, the director seems to be eyeing someone as my possible replacement.
And the worse part is the night-long wait. Gathering one's strength doesn't come as easy as it used to when I sleep in the morning and wake up at noon. The wasted hours could have been used for more productive pursuits.
Like painting words and reading life's wisdom.
Like painting words and reading life's wisdom.
It's 3 in the morning, and with no resolution in sight, not even a temporary fix - as life's tasks threaten to overwhelm me while the sun marches across the sky - I am once again at the mercy of my struggle.
Meanwhile, I will use the remaining darkness to cocoon my mind inside an unseen leaf, while the soothing squeaky voice of Gumball on Cartoon Network slides my thoughts gently into dreams.
As it has always been these past several days, shut eye happened at 4 am, only to be roused from slumber by the persistent nagging of my phone's alarm clock an hour later.