When I was in college I worked as a DJ at a radio station with the call sign KLAF. Yes, K-laugh. We played comedy bits during the day from some of the funniest people in history, and at night (during my shift) we aired classic radio shows like Gun Smoke, or The Shadow, or The George Burns/Gracy Allen Show. It was a fun job, though I didn’t make a lot of money at it. However, I did get to listen to a lot of very funny bits of radio and some of the classics from radio’s golden era.
There were a lot of requests back then for Bill Cosby. One of his funniest bits had to do with his mother always saying she was sick and tired of the things Bill and his brother Russell did. At one point he tells how she is scolding him again and she starts with “I’m sick . . .” and then before she can finish, Bill chimes in with ” . . . and tired,” as if he’s heard it all before.
I’m trying to use humor to stay focused and positive, but I’m struggling.
My body feels as if it’s turning against me. I ache all over, my head hurts, and I sleep in fits and starts. I’m exhausted all the time. My joints hurt, my throat is sore, and my appetite is inconsistent at best. The last few weeks have felt like a test of endurance. I’m fortunate to have the next three weeks off of teaching, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work. Instead of teaching seven classes next term, I’ll only be teaching six. However, our regional director has asked me to help out with some additional tasks as we currently don’t have a dean of faculty at the college. I’ve been interviewing and recommending new faculty, helping to coordinate the fall schedule, and sorting through files in an effort to keep the General Education courses organized for the coming quarters.
My writing time has evaporated.
My plans to attend a writing conference in the fall are looking a bit insecure.
The local author who hates my guts is bragging about a possible sale on her blog and raving that she knew she was good all along – to which all I can say is that if the agent and editor liked it so much, she’d have a contract, not a homework assignment. But that’s my negativity creeping in again.
There are so many things I want to be doing – need to be doing – and I lack the energy and time to get them done. I have a doctor’s appointment next week to find out if there is something more than just run-of-the-mill over doing it. I’m hoping he recommends that I pack my bags for the Bahamas. Not bloody likely.
I need sleep. I need time. I need to write. Possibly in that order, but not necessarily. I need the world to stop spinning so quickly that I lose track of time and place in it.
I have plans, and the coming weeks will reveal if they are sound. I’ve got a personal trainer to help me get healthy; I’ve got agreements with my new writing group that I will not slack on my submission to them; I’ve got the doctor getting ready to check for anything out of the ordinary; I’ve got a pretty new day planner to help me stay grounded in time and space. As Black Adder would say, “A cunning plan that cannot fail.”
I just need to sleep. Of course, getting to bed before 2:30 in the morning might help.