Cruel world for a sleeper,<\/span> Joanna Sanders lives in a can and rarely does she pop the top off to venture out. The clocktower, just barely seen from her apartment window, strikes a tune every three hours. Nine o’clock marks the first hum of the day. Joanna notices that the hustle and bustle begins for all in the city at this time- all except her. The bell is struck again at noon and the activity outside ramps up again, as most tend to break from their daily disciplines for lunch. But Joanna is not bound to a schedule, for in her apartment she has free rein to do what she pleases, on her own time. At three o’clock there is no change. This ring is for the workers. It indicates that two measly hours remain in the workday, reminding them to <\/span>work hard<\/span><\/i> and to <\/span>keep going<\/span><\/i>, and to <\/span>bring it home<\/span><\/i> for the last remnants of their day. But this means nothing to Joanna. She has no reason at this time to pick up the pace of her reading, sleeping, television watching, and leisure. In her world and in her mind Joanna is free and that is the way he likes it.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n It seems in the mind of the achiever,<\/span> Joanna peers out of her window just as the large hand on the clock reaches seven. As the sun descends, an autumn shadow is casted over the city. The action outside continues, but their work day is completed. Now, clamoring people, singles and families, stroll down Main seeking to catch a film or to grab some dinner. After putting in their due diligence, comes their time for leisure, their two to three hours of relaxation before resting their heads for the night. Come morning, their work cycle will repeat, as Joanna\u2019s leisure cycle repeats. As they leisure now, and as she has relaxed through their work day, she begins her job- which starts with a pencil and paper. Then she conjures an idea- many, many ideas, actually- ones that have the potential to evolve. A bank robber with a humble conscience, committing crimes and thievery for a noble cause. Maybe. Or, a love story between an unlikely pairing. Perhaps, an impressionistic story that follows a person’s walk to the grocery store, a sort of story that accurately emulates real life in all its boring tendencies. This cycle will repeat for hours. And then, after an hour, her room is scattered with crumpled papers, her desk is riddled with bits of eraser filings and small fragments of graphite, and she has consumed several cups of strong coffee. Still, she cannot settle on a piece, which direction she would like to follow, and which characters should be explored. And so, the daily feelings settle. Doubt and regret, fear of failure, lack of validation, and anger at her creations. The all-too-familiar lack of validation. Maybe, they\u2019re right- their sentiments tend to control her at this time of day.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The woes of the achiever, the doubts of the sleeper,\u00a0<\/span> Her hand clutches a wooden pencil, forcing it so hard that it snaps. She is done- the feelings of worthlessness and chronic frustration have been rooted in her mind, so she resorts to sleep to cast them away in hopes that tomorrow will bring a better day. Joanna\u2019s head throbs and thrashes from the hours of thinking, long bouts of brainstorming that have amounted to nothing. Laying on her soft pillow, she begins to drift into a taciturn rest. Briefly, all stress from the hours prior is left in the air. Evaporated. Gone. Perhaps, she will have better luck tomorrow, there is no use forcing herself to write if the words come so difficult.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Yet, it seems she is not intended to rest, as two conversing voices from the street below work their way into her open window, forcing her from sleep. She shuts her eyes, surges a pillow around her ears, hums loudly to block out their sound. Yet, she cannot seem to drift back into her slumber. Even after she closes the window, her hopes of catching any rest are gone. So, she once again opens the window, lies in bed, and listens to them. A young man and woman. Partners. Their dialogue consists of small talk. <\/span>Hey, look at that car, pretty sweet, right?<\/span><\/i> So, what are you up to tomorrow? <\/span><\/i>And trading sweet nothings to one another. <\/span>My, you\u2019re beautiful. Thanks, handsome. <\/span><\/i>A new, bumbly but magical, young young fling. Now that she has listened to them for a minute, there is no chance of falling back to sleep. The boy outside offers the girl a cigarette, and she accepts. They take a seat on the stairs before the main door of the complex and settle into conversation. Communication is more comfortable now. The woman exclaims how beautiful the moon is, and he responds immediately and confidently, <\/span>I know, but not as beautiful as you<\/span><\/i>, which makes her giggle and call him a dork. Then, the talk becomes more personal. Family issues. His sick mother, his responsibility to take care of her. Her troubled brother, her worry and fear for him. And passions for the future. Talks of journalistic pursuits for both, their shared detest of tabloid news, and their affinity to tell the truth. Perhaps they met in college. Joanna cannot help but feel slightly dirty for eavesdropping in on their conversation, yet there is no chance that she can stop listening now. This is a pure recounting of humanity in its rawest form. Two people, partners aside, getting closer and closer as she listens to them. More interesting than any tale of thieves and gunmen and showgirls and damsels in distress. This is <\/span>real. <\/span><\/i>Anyway, their interaction seems to be concluding. The woman says she <\/span>had a great time, see you tomorrow<\/span><\/i>, and they both stand up. <\/span>Yeah, I\u2019ll see you to-<\/span><\/i>, the man\u2019s voice is interrupted by a wet smacking sound. After half a minute, the man said, sounding sincere and happy, <\/span>I\u2019ll see you tomorrow, have a good night.<\/span><\/i> Joanna can feel their joy, it seems to radiate to her second story window. Following another kiss, the man\u2019s departure is marked by his footsteps heading south down the street. Shortly after, the noise of the man\u2019s footsteps become nonexistent, and the main door of the complex opens and closes. Their moment has concluded, and now, at just about midnight, Joanna springs out of bed, snatches up a pencil and a notebook, and once more sits down at the desk in her living room.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n And so, the hopeful hour strikes,<\/span> Joanna writes eagerly, scribbling and scrabbling on a sheet of notebook paper. To the rest of the world, her words are illegible, they look like an experimentation with a new language. But for her, eager and fervid, the work is a masterpiece. A raw account of how two people interact, and the notion that they are romantically involved adds exquisite flare and spice. So, she writes. And scribbles and scrabbles. And places on her turntable a favorite record, one that features her favorite Fats Waller song, <\/span>Two Sleepy People<\/span><\/i>. Briefly, she removes himself from the desk to make a pot of coffee. It\u2019s half past three in the morning and the effects of stale caffeine linger on Joanna\u2019s brain, causing aching and pounding in her forehead, a squeamish feeling in her stomach. The top knuckle of her right middle finger, the low arch of her thumb bear small calluses from where the pencil was straddled, exposing raw and pink skin. Before her, three pages of chicken scratch, patterns of unorganized graphite casted onto crumpled notebook paper. Though, to Joanna, this is a beautiful, sensational piece. A fictitious tale, yet an authentic depiction of conversation between people that care for one another. A humble, accurate portrayal of relationships, titled <\/span>Just People Talking<\/span><\/i>. Joanna slips a dart from a Marlboro carton, purses it to her lips, lights it with a silver zippo. Now begins the hours of revisions. In the morning, she will type up the story, print it, and submit it to the Herald. <\/span>A successful day<\/span><\/i>, she thinks, and all the prior frustration and anguish evaporates. Mental and physical irritation aside, Joanna starts making more markings on her work, crossing out words, writing above them, circling phrases, all in the same chicken scratch patterns. On her face, a wide curve from cheek to cheek.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The process of the sleeper,<\/span> Jack Lyons Cruel world for a sleeper, In a city that doesn\u2019t. No glad tidings for those Lacking drive, ambition, motivation.\u00a0\u00a0 Joanna Sanders lives in a can and rarely does she pop the top off to venture out. The clocktower, just barely seen from her apartment window, strikes a tune every three hours. Nine o’clock Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":58,"featured_media":0,"parent":23,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-full-width.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-510","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/510","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/58"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=510"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/510\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":583,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/510\/revisions\/583"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/23"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/18-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=510"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/span>In a city that doesn\u2019t.<\/span>
\n<\/span>No glad tidings for those<\/span>
\n<\/span>Lacking drive, ambition, motivation.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>The go-getter, and the driven, that<\/span>
\n<\/span>Those who leisure,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Who favor easing their mind,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Always practicing, cultivating<\/span>
\n<\/span>Their simple form of meditation,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Also a form of recreation,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Are slackers, lackers of inhibition\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>For worldly change and reformation.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Undistinguishable and similar concurrently,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>For the achiever may not know their ambitions,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>But nonetheless, they secure their goals,<\/span>
\n<\/span>The sleeper knows their ambitions,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Yet doesn\u2019t know how to achieve them,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Neither right, neither wrong, <\/span>
\nEach flawed in different circumstance,<\/span>
\n<\/span>And succeed on different occasion,<\/span>
\n<\/span>Though, a time arises when the sleeper<\/span>
\n<\/span>Becomes inherently restless, and listens<\/span>
\n<\/span>To the mal sentiments of the achiever.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>The act of resilience, a comeback<\/span>
\n<\/span>From a momentary period of restlessness,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Perfect occasion for the sleeper to rise up,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Meet the expectations of the achiever,<\/span>
\n<\/span>In their unique means.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Perhaps reversed, perhaps late,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Yet, at the final breath of sunlight,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>The concluding draw of night,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>The achiever becomes the sleeper,<\/span>
\n<\/span>And the sleeper becomes the achiever,<\/span>
\n<\/span>No stark difference lay between them,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>Their similarities strike the same high note,\u00a0<\/span>
\n<\/span>They are one in the same.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"