Another Necro-Monday

So summer is officially here and my Monday through Thursday work hours have changed to something Adrian Peterson might equate with building the pyramids. However, my Fridays are now far grander than even a normally awesome Friday… they’re like Uber-Fridays. Why? Because I only have to work from 8 until noon. That’s hardly even worth the ten minute drive to and from work, right? I’m pretty sure Rebecca Black would crap herself if she got Uber-Fridays in middle school.

     While Uber-Fridays are all well and good, these other days are going to kick my butt. I just experienced my first Necro-Monday today, and I' m spent, done, kaput. I just want to curl up in a ball under the couch next to a honey-roasted peanut and a dime and hide here hoping that no one will ever find me. In this dark den, I start to see characters take shape and energy that I desperately need is drained from me as ideas leak out. Once the house is still and I'm certain no one will see me, I crawl out from my hidey-hole, strap myself down in front of the computer, dump a box of raisinettes into my mouth (which I hate, but feel a desire to eat about once a year anyway), and watch as the last of my soma trickles from my fingertips.

     And then a funny thing happens. The tiny bit of energy pools and waxes. The characters take what little energy I give them and amplify it and I find it redirected back through my hands, up my arms, down my back, and... well, sometimes it's just gas. But other times I am renewed and each keystroke charges me and draws me closer to the screen while pushing me further than I would have thought possible when I was hiding in the dark, damp places where words are only thought and dreams wither for lack of nourishment. I leave behind jobs that siphon off energy and people that use and take as they see fit. When I am here, though the first three gates may be depleted, I open the fourth and fifth gates and push myself beyond mortal coils of mindless drudgery, task laden monotony, and the doubt I have in my own abilities.

     I guess Nike always had it right: it's really fun to fly around battlefields and rewards soldiers with glory and fame. Nevermind... I thought there was an appropriate metaphor in there somewhere, but I guess I missed it.