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.