I am sure there are people with lots of focus and drive in their lives who manage to do all sorts of things on the days that they work nights.
I am not one of them. My days somehow end up filled with sleeping, cooking and watching soap operas. It's as if, for five business days, I transit time entirely and become a particularly lazy 1960s housewife. Sans hair curlers and smoke rings. Then at night, I am busy working before going out for drinks with other people who spent the night working. They always work at night, though, so they're far better adjusted than I.
On the subject of time transit, however (oy, bad bad bad segue, I know), I offer you this essay, written by Audrey Niffenegger about writing.
I love Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife. It may, in fact, be the only book I've ever read that is loved as much by me as it is by every single woman I know. It weaves time and space, love and ego, lust and blood.
On reading it, I couldn't help but wonder whether the woman would have loved her husband had he not trained her to do so; in turn, would the man have loved his wife had she not trained him?
And so, is love just repetition? Conditioning? Environment? Excellent timing?
I know, not a terribly romantic thought the week before Valentine's Day. But I'm not much for the day of chocolate and red roses, anyway.
Niffenegger's novel is scheduled to become a movie next year -- because modern directors and screenwriters don't write original films anymore -- and I wonder how it will go. I wonder if it will be as beautiful as the book? Casting Canadian actress Rachel McAdams as the female lead is hopeful.... perhaps they'll get Jonathan Rhys Meyers as the male lead?
I do know I wouldn't want to see the film unless I had read Niffenegger's prose for myself first. Because the story is not remotely linear; it can't be. I am not sure that will translate well to film.
Hm. The early morning hours are creeping up on me, and I think I stopped making sense several graphs back.