2.6.2011 | This old wagon
"Waking up is like starting a fire: I'm never sure it's going to catch." Found on the wall of my Facebook account, where I stashed it after Andrew uttered it one sleepy morning a few years ago.
Last week was the first busy week to derail things. On Monday, a resource handed back a project halfway through the schedule and with no progress made. As the owner of the project, I was suddenly in the terrifying position of having to find someone else to do the work in half the estimated time and within the existing budget. The stress consumed everything. I fell into exhaustion and, strangely, an insatiable hunger. Writing all but ceased. But by the end of the workday on Friday, having sacrified the writing and one class, all was handed off. I can start the next week from a beginning.
I've been telling people that the work year so far has been like one of those video games where you have to play a level all the way through before you can save the game and take a break. And before you can reach the end of each level is some big new, tough-to-beat boss that makes your shoulders clench and your thumbs cramp. Each week starts like a new level and I play without rest, without a mistake, until I beat the big guy at the end, sweating and breathless and sore.
Browsing and boozing are back on, though I find I have no desire for either. I sip here and there, but no appetite for more than that.
I decided to download all my Facebook data and delete everything on the server so I can start this year as if with a new account. The download utility is the slickest feature of the entire site and it's nice to have a complete record browsable as a local web page. Whoever worked on it thought it through and did a nice job. I felt better about Facebook in general after using it. But that didn't make me change my mind about deleting everythinga task that took several sittings and a high tolerance for tedium, as each update and action had to be deleted individually. Luckily, I don't post or comment or friend or like much.