It's 2:15 A.M. What AM I Doing?

Well, I'll tell you. I am about to go to bed, I think.

It has been hard, I think I have written in these pages, to sort out a structure for my days. I have chosen, at least for now, not to go back to a 9 to 5 existence. I want to write. I want to paint. I want to read. These things need not be done in a 9 to 5 frame. But up to here, I have felt guilty that I have not forced them into this frame. I like to go to bed late, in fact, my body clock has always been stay up late and get up late, even when my life role did not allow it. I have been getting up late and going to Mass, and then filling the day with various activities, some planned some not, but I have not been able schedule my writing or painting or reading.

In the last week or two, something has happened. It has occurred that being disciplined about working on something I want to does not mean that it has to start and end at a particular time, so long as I do it.

In terms of writing, I had so many ideas for  projects that I could not settle on anything, until the last couple of weeks. I have returned to a non-fiction project I began years ago. I am not sure that if I ever finish writing it I will ever seek to publish. But I decided finally to stick with it, and leave the other writing projects aside. There is, as Mr. Anonymous of the Deluxe Furnished Barbara Judith Apartments no timetable.

And so, like other nights, tonight I found myself sitting in front of my computer at around 10 p.m. just to "look at a few things" on this massive task that might one day be a book. There is so much material to whittle down into something manageable. I am not even sure I can do it. But once in front of the computer, I found myself drawn in and committed and then it was well, 2:15. What did I accomplish? More than I would have if I simply fretted over the structure of my days and night. I worked. It was good.

Maybe this is my pattern for now. What my pattern will be tomorrow, or the next day, who knows? My life may not look much different to anyone outside looking in, but it has changed irrevocably. Within the limits of human frailty and life circumstances, I can do what I want with my days.

I am still not used to it. But I can feel a shift coming. It is a quasi-bohemian life, I guess. But it has a logic and creativity of its own. I need to cherish it, while I can.

I'll keep you posted. But I think I said something a while ago about going to bed. Good night, or is it good morning?.