One of those nights

I'm procrastinating. I have a final exam in my economics class tomorrow and I'm sick and tired of studying.

So here I sit. I dallied on my facebook page, checked my email and read some blogs of friends. I ate Christmas cookies until I felt sick, drank some decaffeinated coffee and made a list of things to do tomorrow.

Part of me knows and understands that I should do well on this exam, regardless of whether or not I study more. Part of me really wants to write. The exam-- and the effort I put into it-- may mean the difference between an A and a B on my transcript. Writing feeds a vicious little part of my soul.

What is the answer?

Perhaps the better question is: What is the complication? I'm not sure I can write tonight. My eyes hurt. I'm tired. I struggled over writing a thank you letter today.

Many writers will tell you, "write." Write everyday, as much as you can, never stopping. Not me. I'm tired. And sometimes when I get in this kind of funk, I go to bed early or I take a nap. But I don't rush sleep. I'm sure any of us who write have worked out plot problems or scenes on the cusp of falling asleep. I sometimes take it one step further and stare at the ceiling or curl under the covers and dwell in their universe for a while. You know who. The characters.

I don't let myself sleep but allow myself to daydream... Again something normal. But something I don't often STOP and do.

And maybe tonight, I'll indulge.

Or I'll go back to elasticities, unemployment, marginal product of labor, economies of scale, etc.