March 2, 2010 by Manny Wordsmith
I am not a 9 to 5er
It’s almost pointless to call this blog “An Insomniac’s State of Mind” when I’m up all day and randomly pass out on this laptop throughout at night.
I wasn’t made for jolly morning talk-shows and traffic jams. Or over-easy eggs and hot cups of coffee. I was made for uncensored stand-up comedy and midnight movie premiers. I was made for steak burgers from BK at 3am, tongue lashings from girls that I call too late, and finishing homework at the crack of daylight. But I thought I needed to conform. I made sure to pick morning classes this semester, not knowing that the recurring nightmare of dirty snow, bad attitudes, and horrible drivers would get to me. Who’d a thunk?
Someone as misanthropic as I deserves to be surrounded in a shroud of blackness. Less is more. If I can’t see much then I can’t hate as much. You can’t doubt the logic of that statement. Of course I know that no self-respecting girl wants to date a disparaging, sardonic, black guy who only sleeps in the day. But do you know any self-respecting girls? Yeah neither do I. So I have the same chance as any guy trying to snag a moonlit impudent scarlet.
My original plan was contrived from my search for normalcy. No one should have to ‘search’ for normalcy, but there I was flipping through the winter semester catalog, thinking how easy it would be to balance my life if I started my days earlier. I felt like everything would just finally fall in place. I’d be able to work on music for more hours. More people would be available to do songs and I could play music louder for longer. I thought hey any girl would love to date someone with goals and stability. A person who filled most of his day with useful events and never used the words “I’m bored”. I thought could see more of my sister and my nieces. And I felt like my brother and my nephews would get the quality Manny time they craved. Everything would line up in a nice pretty row.
Now I get pissed when I get late night calls from friends who want me to translate something they heard in a German porn. Or I get ridiculous last minute invites to bars on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, when they know I gotta be up at dawn. I can’t seem to create anything good with my music during the day. There’s so much life rushing in, out, and around my head that my beats and sample selections are dull, repetitive, and just unexciting. My two-year old nephew wakes me up, every morning he’s over, an hour earlier than I need to be up. A sort of declaration to me that he is here and in power. And I’m lucky if I get to see my sis or either of nieces.
I guess I’m just running out of reasons to be a day person. As sad as that sounds. Not everyone is made for the 9 for 5.