So the jet lag seems to have kicked in. Or I'm just generically tired and crabby today. Could go either way, I suppose.
I'd been adapting nicely to the time change. I like traveling west, because it usually means early to bed and early to rise, and when I'm on vacation or doing something like this, that's helpful. So since we got here we've been in bed, fast asleep, no later than 10 and up around 6.
Last night, I was up late for the Opening Ceremonies, and didn't get to sleep until midnight. Paul had to shake me awake this morning at 8:30, and I was none too keen to get up. That really isn't like me, at least not lately. And I've been dragging all day.
We're usually in the press center -- or away from the hotel -- for about 12 hours, minimum. Today it's been 14. This is pretty routine, I'm discovering. I'm also discovering that I don't think I'd have enjoyed being a reporter. Or at least, I've gotten very used to the routine of daily editing. Putting out a newspaper is a very disciplined thing: There are deadlines and tasks and all tasks must be completed by deadline. But reporting is a whole other animal (and I imagine being halfway around the world in a different time zone makes it even weirder). It seems to me there is lots of time spent waiting for things to happen and deciding what to do and how best to approach it -- all on another person's or organization's schedule. Ugh. Not for me at all.
I've also discovered (I guess I knew this, but hadn't really thought about it all that much) that there are a lot of really wretched writers out there, and while I may never have been a star, I wouldn't have sucked, either.
In hindsight, I think the lack of structure of reporting would have pushed me into editing, eventually. I never minded the bad and long hours, but I really did like the concept of making deadline and being done for the day.
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