Hey, Baby...What's Your Type?

Types. 

Even the most open-minded among us tend to pigeonhole people into Types. We use Type to describe personality: Type A, Type B, Type Where-Did-They-Get-This-Guy? We use Type to accept or reject possible romantic interests: "Him?? Ewww. He is, like, so not my type." We use Type to explain behavior: "I knew she wouldn't green light that experimental project. She is such a pessimist."

We even use Type as we run our own lives. Back in college, my friends chose their class sections based on the time the class met, because, "No way did I sign up for that 8 AM class. I'm totally not a Morning Person." Now, me? I did pick those 8 AM classes. But it wasn't that I'm a Morning Person. Because I'm not. I hate getting up early. (So why did I pick 8 AM classes, you ask? Well, that's another story for another time.) 

Aaaanyway, the whole Morning Person Business brings me to my point for today (and you thought I didn't have one): what if there isn't an existing Type that fits you? See, every time I've heard someone say, "I'm a (insert time-of-day here) person," I've only ever heard two choices to insert here: Morning...or Night. And I don't fit into either one of those Types. 

My non-conformity is most noticeable in my writing life. Take today, for example. (Or really, any day in the last oh-so-many months.) This morning, the itch to write made itself known. My fingers alternately clenched into fists and then splayed wide open, and my eyes lingered on my writing bag as I hurried past it to get the kiddos ready and off to school. Then, once they stampeded onto the bus, I hurried to finish the mundane tasks of life: brushing my teeth (oh, yes...don't get too close to me at the bus stop), folding underwear (which I assumed were clean), and shoving Dust Bunnies back into their hidey holes. Once all of that was out of the way, I finally cracked open the laptop, ready to pour out some thoughts.

And that's where it all came to a screeching halt. What to write? What to write? Twiddle, twiddle, twiddle. I realized I could either waste time with an empty head and an absent muse, or I could move on to errands (grocery run, pay the dentist run, get a new house key made run) so I could come back home and try to write again. So, I ran the errands, came home, unloaded the truck, put away the groceries (well, mostly), then sat down at my computer to try again.

Still, nothing interesting seemed to be flowing. So, I checked email. I looked in on Facebook. I leafed through writer mags. Leaf, leaf, leaf. And then: Oh! Hey! What a great quote! Scribble, scribble, scribble. Finally, inspiration strikes! Yes! I have today's blog post! Gleefully, I sign into my blog, and it's wonderful, and the words are tumbling over each other in their haste to flow out of my fingers to the keyboard.

And then, I glance at the clock. Crappity-crap-crap! The kiddos will be home in a little over an hour, and I only just got started, and I have so much great stuff to write. But once Handsome Boy and Lovely Girl come bounding off of the bus, my laptop shuts down and my pen lies idle, because at that point, my day belongs to them. I'm not the Type who can write while kiddos clamor around me, eager to show me all their treasures from their day. Thus, my writing mojo must be cut short.

So, I'm not a Morning Person. And I'm not a Night Person. I'm not even an I-Can-Write-in-Chaos person. I don't fit. I'm the square peg trying to squeeze into a round hole. 

So you know what? It's time for a new Type.

I'm an Afternoon Person!

So there.