I’m not not sleeping, but I’m not sleeping well. Once I’m out, I’m out, but finding my way out is difficult.
A few weeks ago, I started using the pomodoro technique to break up my days. You set a timer for 25 minutes (usually), focus on a task for the duration, then set another timer to give yourself a 5 minute rest. It’s supposed to increase productivity; I’ve found that in these unproductive times, it’s sometimes kept me at a level with what I was able to achieve Before. Sometimes it hasn’t. Sometimes it’s just reminded me that another 25 minutes has gone by and I still haven’t moved.
Artificially creating a rhythm pushes me through these vague, milestone-less days. I’m usually tired. I’m usually mostly okay. I’m trying to be kind.
And then when it gets to Sunday, I remember I should be writing one of my flippant weekly round-ups. But I don’t, and I haven’t for a few weeks now. I’m not sure if I’ll start again.
I’m not maxxing all this formless time by cramming it into the shape of a free training course or an attempt to remember my beginners Japanese lessons. I am not going to come out of this with a new skill.
I am consuming Netflix, DVD boxsets, Disney+, Kindle ebooks, livestreams, podcasts, Spotify playlists. I’ve found my Nintendo DSi and reread a lot of Enid Blytons. I could record it all, like I said I was going to at the start of the year.
Some of what I’m consuming makes an impression. But I also seem to have lost it – it – whatever it is that’s pushed me to tell the internet my opinions since I was 12 and made my first Angelfire website. Throughout my life, I’ve churned out a lot into this ethereal maw, lol. I guess it’s not gone completely if I still feel like writing couple of hundred words about how it might be lost. Maybe it’s just irrelevant. It’s hard to dredge up any impetus to record what I thought of Flubber, or the NT Live Frankenstein, or Contagion.
I dunno. Maybe if I could sleep better.