Along with “Is it Friday, yet?” and “Is it time to go home, yet?” these are phrases I say way too often. So often, in fact, that I banned them from my vocabulary for a while and found I had little to say to my coworkers. They’re like the packing peanuts that provide social cushioning between the real words (and work) of the day.
Here’s another one I use only with my mom and very close friends, “Is it twirly?” It translates to “Is it too early…” full meaning “Is it too early to go to bed?” The answer is always no. It’s never twirly. I don’t care if I just woke up, it’s never twirly. I could wake up from a six months’ coma, and it wouldn’t be twirly.
Why so serious, I mean, why so sleepy? I have sleep apnea and, after living most of my life chronically and desperately sleep-deprived, I have a complicated relationship with rest. I am much better now, thanks to looking like a test pilot at bedtime. It’s not sexy, but the dogs are the only ones to get the show, and they don’t care, and at least I am more likely to survive the night, so I’ll take the win.
Even with the CPAP-assisted rest, though, I never feel fully rested. So, I’m always ready for a nap, at least in theory. When I have the opportunity to take one, however, I don’t. Not because I don’t want one, I do. Desperately. I just have too much to do.
I’m building something new and immense with the Chaos Library, something risky and unique, and I’m doing it all alone. If I don’t move the needle forward on at least three projects each day, it will all fall apart. So, I do the work. Endlessly, relentlessly, even joyfully. But I don’t stop.
It’s possible no one else will ever care. It’s even likely. It’s certain that no one will care as much as I do. That’s okay. I’m not doing it for them, at least not entirely. I’m doing it for me, and for the people who will find something in the Library that speaks to them. Even just a little bit.
I can always nap tomorrow, but today I have art to create, stories to tell, and a world to build.
Alone, until I’m not.
