4 in the Morning. . .
Have you ever just sat in your favorite seat at four in the morning wanting to write . . . only to know that you need sleep for the events of the next day?
Your major jolt of caffeine had burnt out hours ago. . . now you are sipping soda believing that you are going to write, only to know that you should have started to drink water the minute your major jolt stopped . . . You take another sip, it’s too late to go back now. You finish one can and then onto another.
You want to write, you want to need it, but you are zombified. . . that is when you are so tired, so exhausted that your bottom is stuck in your seat and you can hear your pen and paper (or computer) mocking you. It sits on the end table pen on top of the notebook. . . it’s mocking you, telling you have an idea. . . it’s a freakin’ awesome idea. It is the next big selling story/novel. You trade it looks. . . it knows you want to pick it up, you need to pick up. At this point even your muse is saying. . . “damn!”
Your exhaustion finally fights against the urge of the mocking pen, of the idea sporadically playing in your head. The only thing you are certain of is that your focus is -13. You simply ignore everything.
You flip the channels to see many infomercials. . . two of nonstick pans, four different blenders, three vacuums, eight diet/exercise plans, two match makers, and five different sex/phone chat lines. You notice it was the same episode of Law and Order that you had seen three times before. You seen the episodes of CSI: Miami and House twice, and Married with Children and That’s 70’s show at least five times. There is nothing on the tube!
You flip the channels through again hoping there was something new, something you missed, something that changed. It was all the same, it’s always the just the same. Your exhaustion is making you momentarily insane. You just leave it on whatever. . . you yawn for the millionth time, your beyond exhausted, your eyes are getting heavy . . . sleepy. . . . before you know it blackness.
Then your cat either drops your can on the floor, turns the channel, or hops on your lap. You leap almost hitting the ceiling, you hate the admit it, but you are startled. You curse the damn cat, and then you sit there starting the channel flipping all over again.
You hear the pen and paper (computer) mocking you. . . that is what happens at four in the morning!