November 13, 2001
4.30 am

Every day at around 4am I have my moment of reckoning. Oh, I don't mean like that; it's not some big daily crisis.

But around 4am, I give up on my day. I resign the rest of my mental (or actual) to-do list and take an inventory of what I've accomplished and almost always find I've fallen short. But after a quick spurt of self-loathing, I rebound with promise. Every 4am of my life is full of resolution for the next day. Every 4am is full of hope.

Okay, I think, it's too late to do anything else today, but tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to get up early. Tomorrow I'm going to work out. Tomorrow I'll eat 5 servings of fruit and vegetables. Tomorrow I'll walk the dogs. Tomorrow I might even give them a bath. Tomorrow I'll work on the Dick List. Tomorrow I'll switch to a PayPal shopping cart so I can save some money. Tomorrow I'll pay my bills. Tomorrow I'll do some bulletin board maintenance. Tomorrow I'll take down those chickclick banners. Tomorrow I'll make those .eps files. Tomorrow I'll send off those packages. Tomorrow I'll floss. Tomorrow I'll clean out that back room. Tomorrow I'll vacuum all the dog hair off the couch. Tomorrow I'll scrub the blanket of bird shit off my car. Tomorrow I'll drink 8 glasses of water. Tomorrow I'll wrap those presents so when people come over they'll be impressed at how ahead of the game I am with my Christmas list. Tomorrow I'll look into UPS. Tomorrow I'll take vitamins. Tomorrow I'll call the Auto Trader about that fucking Honda. Tomorrow I'll make that soup. Tomorrow I'll put some of those new recipes up on Out of the Frying Pan. Tomorrow I'll save those files and reformat my laptop. Tomorrow I'll call dad about that software. Tomorrow I'll wax the rest of that hair. Tomorrow I'll change my sheets. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

A couple of days ago, I actually sat down and tried to make a list of what I'd done. (Lists are key. Without things to cross out, I'd sit on my ass and watch sci-fi and play solitaire until I passed out.) I could barely come up with anything. I kept trying to scan the day, the way you try to retrace your steps when you've lost your keys. And I kept drawing a blank. It was as if my day had been a dream I couldn't quite recall.

In contrast to my actual life, my dreams have been particularly vivid. For awhile I would wake up and babble them into my little tape recorder, but over the last couple of days, I wake up, think "Oh, that's interesting--I'll remember that," and then fall back asleep. Recording them is important, I have decided, because they hold the key to what I am avoiding in real life, whatever is pressing down on me like a stone and keeping me from my real day, the future day I envision every 4am. If I could only decipher my dreams, I always think, I would be able to unlock my trouble remembering my day. It might tie into my whole escalating time theory (which definitely ties into my escalating paranoia theory).

Unlike my life, which barely keeps me conscious, my dreams are so engaging I can't wake up. This makes it hard for me to break my night owl sleep schedule. My fucked up sleep schedule may also be the root of my hazy days. I used to do that reckoning at 2am--that's when I would officially call it a day and work out my list of promises for the day to come. Now I give up at 4am, linger awake until 5 or 6, piddling around, maybe doing the dishes or sorting through my email or something but never really accomplishing anything, not anything that could be struck off a list, even an imaginary one. Because although I sometimes lack so much motivation that I do put "dishes" or "email" on my to-do list, I know it doesn't really count. I may as well add "shower" or "take a dump." Hm. Lately putting "shower" on my list wouldn't be a bad idea...

I wouldn't mind the odd hours, except that they conflict with my nightly resolutions. How can I have a morning workout when I can't drag my ass out of bed before noon? How can I have an afternoon workout when I've barely finished my coffee? Everything that makes you feel square and list-crossy-offy has to happen in the morning. Wake, coffee, walk the dogs, work out, shower, put on clothes, work. These are things people do in the morning.

Other people do their little routines every day. I couldn't even find a routine when I had a 9-5; how can I possibly cultivate one now? I'm contemplating a career of Pharmaco in order to avoid a real job.

(I'm not joking. My perception may be rosy with nostalgia, but I actually liked doing Pharmaco. It's peaceful and fun, like a cross between sleepaway camp and some kind of 1920s convalescent home in the country. You get to shirk all your normal responsibilities, and you don't feel guilty or antsy because your being paid to shirk them. If I do start up with Pharmaco again, I'll pretend I'm convalescing. Like I'm locked up because I'm suffering from consumption and that's why they keep drawing my blood. They should really add a courtyard garden and old fashioned wooden wheel chairs and crocheted afghans for our laps. People would be fighting to get in. People like me, anyway.)

Oh shit. I just remembered Karen's going to be here at 10 and my house is a pigsty and I haven't finished my order. Damn it.

11.06.01