(1) 40% of the time, I come home from work (a semi-intellectually-satisfying and semi-good-paying job) and work further on my Joan Crawford website until about midnight or 1am.
Of the other 60% of the time:
(2) 40% is spent coming home and collapsing numbly on the couch and watching (usually) Bravo then, post-midnight, C-SPAN3 until I fall asleep.
(3) The other 20% is spent with a book, TV on in the background, until I fall asleep.
10 years ago, at 42 (2007), I was in New York City. And I was also spending about 40% of my nights working on Joan (the only thing that gave me a sense of security, continuity), the other 60% just lying around worrying about finding work, also with TV on in the background. I don't remember reading much.
10 years before that, at 32 (1997), I was going out drinking 4 or 5 nights a week at gay clubs. I'd thought that getting my Master's degree in '95 would open up a new world of high-paying, creative employment, but... no. The only place I could get hired post-MA was back at my old library job in Austin that I'd held before moving to San Francisco for the grad degree. 1995 to 2000 was an utter Wasteland.
10 years before that, at 22 (1987), I was half-in/half-out of college, still mourning the loss of my 1983 high-school love Ginny (though she hadn't died yet, had just left me); in love with poetry and my poetry classes; just secretly discovering being gay (and discovering old movies and Joan Crawford); not yet having met my first good friends or my first lover.
I'm glad I'm not in 1997 or 2007 any more. 1987 was full of potential: Lots of stuff happened in the 2 years following. Most ending up sad, however.