I am working on two hours of sleep. Maybe three at the outside. Just couldn’t get to sleep last night and then had to be up at an ungodly hour for a Sunday. You know how it is.

Still, very productive weekend. I just have to keep up this pace, or faster, for the next two weeks and then I can slow down for about a minute. Then it starts again, even faster. Easy. It’s always easy. I just keep telling myself that and acting like it’s true and keep moving. That way I don’t notice quite as much.

It works, for certain values of working.

And then when I get my week or so break this spring before I start up everything else again. But that will be lower key, more work overall but less pressure and time crunch. It’ll seem like a fucking vacation.

I’ve spent five years burning at an incredible pace and I’m almost to the end and I can see the finish line and all I have to do is make it. It’s utterly doable. Take small breaks as much as I can afford to, don’t beat myself up for spending a downtime day just laying around and being useless, pace myself. I can do this. I can make this finish line.

And yeah… after this comes more. That’s my life. I chose it. Willingly and knowingly and I’d do it again. It’s a fuck of a ride. At the tail end of a nine hour day done on two hours of sleep I have to hold onto that. I have to hold it close while I go and do some more. But tonight there will be a nice large break and some decent sleep hopefully.

Fuck. I love my life. I really do. I get to do fun things. I get to work on fun projects and work with people that get just as excited as I do about them. I get to push myself to all sorts of limits and then push further and find I can still function and stand and take it. I know what I am capable of.

Wow this is rambling. Did I mention two hours of sleep? I think I did.

Yeah. So there ya go. Or something.