A willing spirit

I have gone to doctors since age 13 complaining of excessive tiredness. Obviously over the past decade or so I have still accomplished much, despite being tired; yet it is tiring in itself to always feel like I am trying to do everything with less than enough energy. Sarah claims that I need to sleep more—9 hours, instead of the recommended 7.

How is it possible to regiment my day further than it already is, with two hours less? From when I wake up to when I finally go to bed, I am constantly doing something. I read books. I read news articles. I read encyclopedia entries and essays. I read the dictionary. I read blogs. As Kali has noted, often with bemusement, my curiosity is insatiable. I am a reader.

And where does writing fit in? I started on a story recently, one that has been percolating for the last couple of years. I have an outline, now I need two consecutive hours every day to work on it. ‘You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you,’ says Ray Bradbury, and I agree.

Simply put, going to bed earlier means not doing as much. But there is always more to read, to write, to learn. It comes down to this: I must either read or write. I cannot do both, despite my efforts to the contrary.

Ah, life. I yearn for more of it, and then find myself too tired.

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