Day Two: 2016 The Year of Kicking Ass
I wish my laptop was waterproof. My best speeches and diatribes flow while I'm lathering. Fulsome fierce rants gurgle down the drain along with my soap suds. I peer in the foggy mirror while toweling off. It's a thousand yard stare. By the time I have my pants on my mind has already clicked into daily bullshit mode. It kills me.
I took a whole week off between Christmas and New Year's. I was exhausted in so many ways. We set a lot of goals this year, and hit the ground running. I can't say I got organized or learned to budget myself better, but I can say I moved my business, ran my household, supported my husband in his journey from house painter to educator.
He's doing amazing and is on track to get a good teaching position in Long Beach or Newport/Mesa. He is enjoying making connections in the teaching world, and his kids love him. He also gets to spend more time with his sister and her family, because frequently our niece and nephew are in the classes he teaches. Or he stops by their house on his way home to hang out and chat with Mel(sister).
As far as the budget and organization goes, I have obediently slid that over to this year's goals. I'm ready to be in beast mode again. I'm paying LB Boot Camp $99 a month, and I'm so damn country I can't bear to pay for something I don't use the shit out of. My plans are Tues/Thurs boot camp, Mon/Wed yoga at home, and Tues night yoga with Chrissy when I'm not booked. I miss eating better and drinking my water. I didn't have that nagging sense of guilt like I do now. I feel like I've been running my engine over 8,000 miles without an oil change. Something's gonna blow and I know it.
I'm continuously amazed by my immune system and resilience. I have this idealized version of a diet I'd like to live on. Herbal teas, fresh pressed juices, organic vegetable dishes with barley or brown rice, desserts of fresh fruit drizzled with honey and almonds and dolloped with unsweetened Greek yogurt, and a steady supply of fairy dust and unicorn farts. Pfft!
My diet consists of raisin english muffins, premix yogurts, cup of noodles, pizza, cookies, Taco Bell, Diet Dr Pepper, a shitload of red wine, take out, and the occasional 2 veg plus one slab of meat dinners I cook. Why am I not dead yet? Or on a ton of scrips?
I've decided not to check the teeth of this particular equine(gift horse-mouth) but to soldier on and consider myself a lucky little duck.
I'm also planning to join the Junior League of Long Beach. It's a group of women who advocate for women and children's rights and programs. They've been around for over 100 years. Yes, I realize it's total women's league shenanigans, charity luncheons and such. But I like the idea of learning how to advocate for non-profits. My friend Sara has been part of it for a year. She loves it. I like the idea of at least some of my free time going to causes I believe in.
I've always believed in rolling up my sleeves and being on the ground. It's easy to bitch a blue streak about what needs fixing. But it's all bullshit until you roll up your sleeves and step in. Every life has its stages. I'm getting to age/stage where I believe a portion of my time should be in service to others. I realize it is something that was repeatedly told to me throughout life. Plus, it looks like it's going to be a ton of fun. The women are funny, and spirited. It doesn't feel false or clique-ey. These chicks go to the state capital and demand results from our representatives. They help local schools. That's cool. I'm down with that.
My writing I have not come to terms with yet. I wanted to have my week structured from the very beginning of this year. Everything I wanted to achieve was going to become the biggest freakin' Lego project ever. Each brick/hour interlocking into the other, building on itself until I became the Taj Mahal of good health, exercise, mental health, writer/massage therapist/goddess I've always pictured.
My laundry is done. My bills are paid. Umm...Everything else I'm working on.
I'm thinking I should write in the mornings, before I've had a chance to outthink myself. Maybe get my laptop plugged in near the bed. I want to roll over and pop the lid. Maybe it's the only way I'll get it done. I determined to have a complete story by April. Edited by May Published before my birthday this year. Richard Kadrey posted a great little graph of how much famous writers write in a day. Most were 1,000 words. That's about five pages. I can do this if I learn to type and think fast enough. I have a half finished outline, but I think it's as far as I can project right now.
A lot of my stories evolve from:
Ok. How the Fuck do I get out of this?
Or the ever popular: Why the fuck did that happen?
Like how could that happen in a million trillion years? Huh? Genuis?
I'm putting suicide bombers in The Rat King. Kids hear things and terrorism is big right now. I think they should read an argument about it. Why would people do such crazy things? What could drive someone to do that? I'm all over the place with it, but I think it can be meaningful. I gotta quit building this up, and just enjoy telling a story. I'm smart I can come up with something. Speaking of. I had planned to start this yesterday.
Day One: Kick Ass.
The reality? Day One: sleep until 10am, do nothing all day. Put on pants at 2pm to walk dog and buy coffee, come back to stare blankly at TV. Go to bed at 11pm.
Day Two: Day One Take Two. Sleep until 9am, showered, dressed, dog walked, breakfast snarfed by 11:40am. Been writing since. I have an errand to run, but don't care to yet. I am going to work on my book. Text my clients after. I can't decide if I want to spend evening with girlfriends. I'm tired. Feeling insular.
Ah well, off to write 1,000 words on my book. Onward and upwards my friends.
I took a whole week off between Christmas and New Year's. I was exhausted in so many ways. We set a lot of goals this year, and hit the ground running. I can't say I got organized or learned to budget myself better, but I can say I moved my business, ran my household, supported my husband in his journey from house painter to educator.
He's doing amazing and is on track to get a good teaching position in Long Beach or Newport/Mesa. He is enjoying making connections in the teaching world, and his kids love him. He also gets to spend more time with his sister and her family, because frequently our niece and nephew are in the classes he teaches. Or he stops by their house on his way home to hang out and chat with Mel(sister).
As far as the budget and organization goes, I have obediently slid that over to this year's goals. I'm ready to be in beast mode again. I'm paying LB Boot Camp $99 a month, and I'm so damn country I can't bear to pay for something I don't use the shit out of. My plans are Tues/Thurs boot camp, Mon/Wed yoga at home, and Tues night yoga with Chrissy when I'm not booked. I miss eating better and drinking my water. I didn't have that nagging sense of guilt like I do now. I feel like I've been running my engine over 8,000 miles without an oil change. Something's gonna blow and I know it.
I'm continuously amazed by my immune system and resilience. I have this idealized version of a diet I'd like to live on. Herbal teas, fresh pressed juices, organic vegetable dishes with barley or brown rice, desserts of fresh fruit drizzled with honey and almonds and dolloped with unsweetened Greek yogurt, and a steady supply of fairy dust and unicorn farts. Pfft!
My diet consists of raisin english muffins, premix yogurts, cup of noodles, pizza, cookies, Taco Bell, Diet Dr Pepper, a shitload of red wine, take out, and the occasional 2 veg plus one slab of meat dinners I cook. Why am I not dead yet? Or on a ton of scrips?
I've decided not to check the teeth of this particular equine(gift horse-mouth) but to soldier on and consider myself a lucky little duck.
I'm also planning to join the Junior League of Long Beach. It's a group of women who advocate for women and children's rights and programs. They've been around for over 100 years. Yes, I realize it's total women's league shenanigans, charity luncheons and such. But I like the idea of learning how to advocate for non-profits. My friend Sara has been part of it for a year. She loves it. I like the idea of at least some of my free time going to causes I believe in.
I've always believed in rolling up my sleeves and being on the ground. It's easy to bitch a blue streak about what needs fixing. But it's all bullshit until you roll up your sleeves and step in. Every life has its stages. I'm getting to age/stage where I believe a portion of my time should be in service to others. I realize it is something that was repeatedly told to me throughout life. Plus, it looks like it's going to be a ton of fun. The women are funny, and spirited. It doesn't feel false or clique-ey. These chicks go to the state capital and demand results from our representatives. They help local schools. That's cool. I'm down with that.
My writing I have not come to terms with yet. I wanted to have my week structured from the very beginning of this year. Everything I wanted to achieve was going to become the biggest freakin' Lego project ever. Each brick/hour interlocking into the other, building on itself until I became the Taj Mahal of good health, exercise, mental health, writer/massage therapist/goddess I've always pictured.
My laundry is done. My bills are paid. Umm...Everything else I'm working on.
I'm thinking I should write in the mornings, before I've had a chance to outthink myself. Maybe get my laptop plugged in near the bed. I want to roll over and pop the lid. Maybe it's the only way I'll get it done. I determined to have a complete story by April. Edited by May Published before my birthday this year. Richard Kadrey posted a great little graph of how much famous writers write in a day. Most were 1,000 words. That's about five pages. I can do this if I learn to type and think fast enough. I have a half finished outline, but I think it's as far as I can project right now.
A lot of my stories evolve from:
Ok. How the Fuck do I get out of this?
Or the ever popular: Why the fuck did that happen?
Like how could that happen in a million trillion years? Huh? Genuis?
I'm putting suicide bombers in The Rat King. Kids hear things and terrorism is big right now. I think they should read an argument about it. Why would people do such crazy things? What could drive someone to do that? I'm all over the place with it, but I think it can be meaningful. I gotta quit building this up, and just enjoy telling a story. I'm smart I can come up with something. Speaking of. I had planned to start this yesterday.
Day One: Kick Ass.
The reality? Day One: sleep until 10am, do nothing all day. Put on pants at 2pm to walk dog and buy coffee, come back to stare blankly at TV. Go to bed at 11pm.
Day Two: Day One Take Two. Sleep until 9am, showered, dressed, dog walked, breakfast snarfed by 11:40am. Been writing since. I have an errand to run, but don't care to yet. I am going to work on my book. Text my clients after. I can't decide if I want to spend evening with girlfriends. I'm tired. Feeling insular.
Ah well, off to write 1,000 words on my book. Onward and upwards my friends.
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