I thought I was alone in my room just now until I heard a dog sigh. I turned around to find Amos dozing on the jeans I threw on the floor before my shower. A photoshoot commenced, and I may have woken him up with my frantic photographing. But I came away with these two favorites. He’s still sleeping there.
I occasionally entertain dreams of the ultimate home office — a cozy yet productive space where I can do a little of everything (music, reading, writing). So when I stumbled on from the desk of…, a project by Kate Donnelly on the workspaces of various professionals (often graphic designers), I found myself drooling. Here are two of my favorites:
I’m not there yet in terms of pure space and storage, and double monitor heaven isn’t quite within my grasp. But here’s a glimpse of my current setup, which I finally purchased this past September after going desk-less for over a year. It may be a tiny space, but it’s a little slice of tranquility and I couldn’t be more thrilled to call it my own.
Yet another Saturday morning post… this time from the 4AM hour. It’s the result of trying to power through yesterday and stay up until a “normal” bedtime of 8PM. When my head hit the pillow for a rest around 6, I should’ve known I’d be a goner.
I’m currently craving breaded chicken cutlets and some broccoli, which I’ll mostly likely make after finishing this post. That and a shower, but I’ll spare my roommate the high hiss of running water at such an ungodly hour. I’ve always been one to enjoy savory dinner foods for breakfast. I sort of attribute it to my being Chinese (not that this has much logic). But it’s reached a new level since I started working nights. Brownies at 8AM? Yes, please. Steak to follow? Sure. Dumplings with coffee at 10:30PM? Sounds perfect.
NOTE: I couldn’t wait to finish writing this to eat.
Whew. I feel better.
I’m under no false impression that it’s a good thing to eat such strange meals at odd times But if I’m willing to make it, I’m willing to eat it… at any time of day. Because frankly, there are a lot of factors that make the whole process a hassle to forego entirely.
Is there a mountain of dishes already in the sink? Do I need to venture to Safeway for an extra ingredient? Am I eating alone? And most importantly, have I slept enough?
The answer to the aforementioned questions may determine whether I brave the night on a Clif Bar and TV dinner (in some cases, just several Clif Bars) or have something more substantial. Even as I write this, I’m wondering to myself, “Is this some sort of disordered eating… or just laziness?” Maybe a little of both.
I’ve settled in rather comfortably in the night shift in the last 5 months, but I continue to mourn dinners with friends and nights with Alex. Yes, as a co-worker has often pointed out in the face of my complaints, it’s very possible to at least make dinners happen. Sometimes, I do, but not without incurring a feeling of exhaustion previously unknown to me. It’s still tough to wake up before 7PM, to align my mood with the moods of those wrapping up the day, and to leave the dim lights of a restaurant for the fluorescent bulbs of an office.
All that said, I feel mostly* amazing. For the first time since college, I can look ahead a full year and and see more than a question mark. That’s progress I can get behind.
*excluding job rejections, asthma cough, and winter weather fatigue
Today is Saturday. I woke up at 5AM, saw it was 5AM, and tried to will my body to sleep longer. But at 6:30, I gave up and succumbed to wakefulness. Then I proceeded to the kitchen where I made coffee and washed dishes for half an hour.
Since settling into the overnite shift, this has become a typical Saturday morning. Before this, I’d had little experience with voluntary early mornings, but I admit I like them. I encounter this whole group of people who I’d never see five months ago. They say “hello” on the street as you pass them walking to the grocery store at 8AM. Two or three hours later, the vibe of the neighborhood changes. The brunch crowd spills out onto the streets, sporting bed heads and large sunglasses. Never sweatpants, though — This is Dupont f*cking Circle.
There’s one drawback to the early mornings. They are, by nature, solitary. At least if you’re not shacked up with a fellow early riser. And while this is one reason I love them, it’s also a bit of social handicap. I was never one to go out of my way to hit up the bars and, as the yawns begin around 8PM, my aversion has only escalated.
My favorite kind of bar is the kind where you can sit down and/or have a conversation. This isn’t quite in line with the scene favored by most early-20-somethings, so last weekend I tried to expand my horizons. I went out to The Mighty Pint in Foggy Bottom to meet some friends who had suggested the place. Upon arriving there, I immediately wondered how long I’d have to stay. After five more minutes in the place, I decided not a minute longer.
I am under no delusion: I am not the most easy-going when it comes to social events and being in a dark, crowded space with drunk strangers exacerbates the problem. So… I have my own version of the Irish exit. As defined by Urban Dictionary, an Irish exit “refers to the departure from any event without telling any friends, associates or acquaintances that one is leaving.” Typically, an Irish exit-er is drunk and that is his/her excuse for an unexplained departure. But as a bit of tea-totaler as of late, I have no real excuse — only complete intolerance of my surroundings. Luckily, two friends shared my sentiments and, gracefully and silently, we power-walked to the Bier Baron where we sat and talked and drank a single craft beer each.
Well, at 8:30AM, after she has slept the whole day away, Alex is awake. And so I bid farewell to the internet for now. Until next time.