Some people write better when they are pressed for time. Take Katrina. She can have a substantial assignment due at 8:00 am, not start it till 8 pm the night before, and pump out a fantastic paper by making herself a few cups of coffee and working till the sun comes up. How does she do this? We're not sure.

Me--I take a long time to commit to words. There are a lot to choose from and I want to get it right. Post midnight, words just start to do their own thing on my page. They slip out of me, unchecked, unregulated...and I can almost hear their squeels of delight when they do it, especially the older ones, because they've waited a long time for this moment. To catch me off guard, and be out in the open, splatted on paper so that they can actually validate themselves in the big wide written world.Curse words are known for this.

Self respect. That's what it's all about. And when I blog past midnight, with a laptop battery that only has 25 minutes to go, I see two problems. One- I am not a Katrina. Time crunches hurt my abs. And two: I write about nothing. I write because my laptop is on my lap, and my fingers are on the keys, and I'm so comfortable in my mass of pillows and blankets that it just seems like the right thing to do. And I don't have a clue what to say, other than that my battery is fading about as fast as I am, and yet I'm still here.

It's because I'm in that cozy phase...the one everyone loves and hates because it's the pinnacle of comfy, or at least it could be, but your mind keeps poking you annoyingly, because it wants bed.

Low Battery signal is now poking me. I'm altogether too uncomfortable now to even write about being comfy. Already a thing of the past.
And one point goes to the words that escaped me on this little random post.