The Night-Shift

My first day off in four days or, more accurately, four nights. This night shift schedule does throw me for a loop. This morning  (night) has me . . . well, focus seems just outside my periphery. There is a discernible  pause in my thinking as I labor to get judgements right and then double check the results. Thus far in the second week, I’ve put the sugar in the fridge, the cheese in the freezer, and the yogurt in the pantry. I’ve lost my badge  and even arrived at work one night without the top to my uniform. That last one was particularly embarrassing. I’m quick to remind the gals who marvel at my forgetfulness that they’re lucky I didn’t forget my pants.

There has been one or two good nights as I’ve adjusted to the new schedule. A schedule I intend to keep for a while yet. The extra money is pretty good and lord knows I need every scrap of extra money I can get. The priority is to get established in schedule and efficacy at work, secondarily to have finances managed. This here entry is a good reminder to be patient and to keep to the task.

Twelve hour night shifts do come with upsides. Among them are the days off. It doesn’t seem like much but the extra day off here and again does help, especially when approaching projects. This sentiment is being applied to my renewed desire to create art. I have three or four days strung together where I have nothing to do but what I want. Because they are nighttime “days”, the rest of the world is asleep which means whatever I want to do is uninterrupted. Perfect for intellectual endeavors.

I intent to recommit myself to art for the time being. I don’t know if, and I know better than to expect, that commitment will last. While that interest in art is here, though, I want to love and cherish that interest as long as I can before it wanes. I truly hope it doesn’t wane.

I catch myself romanticizing video games and I lick my lips with creepy desire. I’m experienced enough to know that indulging in that behavior is a short lived high. For a day or so I am goofy happy, then I begin to feel my efforts as empty and the fourth wall of the experience deteriorates. I see past the illusion and the escapism is thereby ruined.

Art, I understand can be a labor, she grants me something I cannot find elsewhere: a deeper meaning. A significance to myself, my actions, and my place in the world. The ultimate goal is to contribute to the world somehow and contribute in a positive fashion. I’m not whoring after celebrity or greedily dreaming of dollars, I am sincerely and desperately looking to make my existence beneficial to others. My little arts and crafts are the best device I can fathom in accomplishing such a grandiose feat.

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