Vampirism is not the answer

I fear that my five years of college and working at newspapers created some irreconcilable damage to my ability to exist in the real world.
And I’m not even talking about all the existential and logistical crap that one must overcome to adjust to being a fulltime adult. I’m talking about how I’ve apparently turned into a nocturnal being who lacks the resolution and fine motor skills to live life under the sun.
I’ve tried. Believe me. The last few weeks have been a study in making the effort to wake up early, like a normal human being, and achieve full functionality ere the sun reaches its highest point.
Needless to say, I failed. I’ve grown accustomed to living life in reverse. To sleeping in and then drifting through the world in a general malaise until the sun hits the hills.

This is a problem, mostly because I can’t imagine finding a real job that allows me to sleep until 10, take a late afternoon nap and then be at the top of my productivity between the hours of 9 p.m. and 2 a.m. (excluding, of course, heavy manual labor, fast food restaurants, and adult entertainment. I’m exploring my options.)
Mostly, though, it’s limited the progress of my writing, which was pretty much the entire motivation for me moving back home and choosing to be unemployed for a couple months.
I’m usually pretty good about reading and writing everyday, except when I try to do either before it’s socially acceptable to start drinking (not that I have to drink to write or read, it’s just a coincidence that I’m best at both at roughly the same time of the day. Also, there’s a significant point of debate relating to when it’s socially acceptable to start drinking. Because I don’t adhere to that particular code of conduct, lets go with 4 p.m. as the benchmark).
During my days at The Sagebrush, I spent a lot of time reading the advice of writing guru Roy Peter Clark, who says that the best writing is usually done first thing in the morning. After trying to apply that piece of advice to my life, I conclude that Mr. Clark is a malicious liar.
So, what to do now?
I guess I could assume the life of a vampire and embark on an existence of nighttime vagrancy, slowly drifting from one abandoned building to the next while speaking only in pretentious accents and creeping people out with the sort of middle-distance kind of stares normally attributed to strippers and the strung out.
Thing is, I’m sort of a clean freak and I’m not a real big fan of the hygienic obstacles life as a vampire would present (I mean, sure, there’s a legitimately sexy appeal to the cinematic image of the tormented immortal slowly languishing over the pulsing neck of some otherworldly beautiful woman, but there’s no way that could be the universal experience, especially in a town like Wells. Eventually you’d have a run-in with a truck driver or a meth addict or the overweight elderly woman who wears spandex and hasn’t showered in three days. Not for me.). Plus, my skin’s already too pale and I don’t want to undo all the tanning I accomplished in Miami.
So, I guess I either need to start drinking coffee or acknowledge that I’m better off sleeping, watching TV and movies and playing video games until 3 p.m., then working out and getting down to business until I can’t keep my eyes open any more.

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So I'm a terrible blogger...don't judge me

Alright, so I realize we’ve been here before, with me apologizing to you, my dear readers, for thoroughly neglecting my responsibilities as a scarcely read, yet mildly entertaining, blogger.
It’s just that, well, stuff happens. That’s mostly a lie, actually, because nothing really happens in Wells, unless you count substitute teaching or putting on actual clothing less than five times a week as exciting (and I’m guessing you don’t).
But, I’ll have you know, a lot has changed in the last six weeks or so since I left you.


I’m 24 now, for starters, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m indifferent, for the most part. Turning 24 just somehow lacked the luster of a 10 or 16 or 18 or 20 or 21, and the youthful zeal with which I normally attack birthdays, even last year’s eventful No. 23, was decidedly absent.
I guess it commemorates me surviving another 365 days without performing some incredibly moronic, clutzy and/or ill-advised act leading to my immediate or drawn-out death. That’s something, especially considering my decision-making skills (Take, for example, “The great arm hair singe” of ’04 in which I decided to start the fire pit in my back yard with nothing but a broken lighter and an expired can of bug spray. For the record, I did achieve ignition, but at the heavy cost of all the hair on my left forearm and nearly my left hand).
Mostly this birthday finishes another year I no longer have to accomplish great things. I did graduate from the University of Nevada, Reno, Cum Laude (insert sexually natured joke here), no less, and I also interned at The Miami Herald, which is one of the best newspapers in the country. But as much fun as I had assaulting my liver for one last semester and enjoying the city of Miami in general, I hope both accomplishments are small on my list in the long run.
Which leads back to Wells, and, specifically, the book I’m trying to write while I’m here. I’ve worked a bit on it, but I hadn’t got seriously into the writing process until the last few days. I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff, and it’s taken some time to clear my head enough to get serious. The holidays are also a bit crazy at the Hylton household, what with the large extended family and all.
I’ve also recently become obsessed with the television show Chuck, which I’m planning to explain at a later date, although I think we all know that’s assuming a certain level of commitment I’m not entirely capable of delivering.
Anyway, the combination of all that delayed the process, but I’m on track now. Hopefully.
Along with attacking my project a little harder, I’m going to attempt to revive this space as well. With all the other writing I’m doing – journaling, outlining, poetry and short story writing to go along with the big project – I’m not sure it’s realistic to try to match the pace I set last spring. So, for the moment, I’m going to shoot for updates every Tuesday and Friday.
I’ve decided that I’m not going to discuss the details of my project in any details, but I may also make this sort of a journal on the writing process itself.
Exciting stuff. Sort of.

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