Today is for writing.

Today, I am writing. Finishing up two new books for Hallmark and turning them in tomorrow. I feel a little distracted because for the past month, I've been promising myself that I'm going to weed my garden and detail my car. I've been putting those two chores off for four weekends in a row and now that I have a weekend full of writing obligations, all I want to do is be outside doing those chores. Life is funny.

Listening to Band of Horses, finishing up my morning coffee and thinking about taking a shower. I've been watching my parents' pup Sophie all weekend while they are visiting Nevada. She is a doll and has the best time playing with Lola. They run laps around the house, play chase, share toys and Bully Sticks (chewing treats...cured beef tendon, better for them than rawhide). It's adorable. Lola likes to nap on my bed, on her bed or on the couches and Sophie will only nap on the floor, pushed up against a wall or piece of furniture. It's cute how dogs have their own preferences and personalities, just like people. Lola snores, Sophie sighs. Lola watches you move about the house, Sophie follows you. Sophie is on alert at every noise, Lola rolls her eyes at the disturbance.

This is procrastinating. Need to get back to the books.

Technicality

Ok, so OFFICIALLY, I missed posting on Thursday. Only took me three days to break my let's-make-a-habit-out-of-writing-every-day pact with myself. Since I missed it by like, 22 minutes, I don't think it counts. I'm not counting it. Here's my post for the day, it's not really a post so much as a general request for all men with delusions that they can pull off 'skinny jeans' -- DON'T. Just...don't. I mean, seriously, nobody wants to see those chicken legs so just put them away. All it does is make me think how nice it would be to fold you up and put you in my pocket, and I can't respect someone like that. Also, I know it's super trendy and hipster to wear tight clothes paired with GIANT thick-rimmed glasses, but this is NOT 1987 and you are NOT an extra on the set of Golden Girls, so give up the dream, fellas. That's all for tonight. PEACE!

Committment

It recently occurred to me that I've become so busy just getting through the day that I've stopped writing. That's a lie. It didn't recently occur to me. I've known it for a long time. My 10-year-old niece told me that it takes 21 days of doing something to make it a habit. I'm going to make a habit out of writing every day. It's weird, but as much as I want to consider myself a writer, I'll do anything to procrastinate writing. Once I get going, I'm fine. When I finish, I'm proud. It's the starting that stumps me every time, and not just writing assignments with deadlines, but journal entries, blogging, e-mails...any kind of writing. I watched a Biography episode on Hulu yesterday on the life of HST. He was the same way and his editor figured it was because Hunter was so afraid of the writing not being good. I wonder if I have the same fear. I'm ready to get my GONZO sword tattoo, but I'm not sure where I want to put it. I want to put it somewhere I can see it, like the underside of my forearm, but I'm nervous to get it in a place where everyone else can see it too. I don't want to have to hide it, and I feel like if I'm passionate enough about something to get it inked into my skin, I shouldn't give a flying flip what anyone else thinks about it, even prospective employers. We'll see. I'm not committing to this today, just the writing :)

Thoughts on a Thursday

Sometimes I catch myself staring off into space--my head is not empty, it's overflowing. It's like my capacity to function is on lockdown while the spillway clears. I think too much. There's too much in my head. There are two ways of dealing with this--distract yourself with mindless things like videos of kittens on the Internet so that you don't have to deal with the chaos in your brain OR purge the chaos in some form of release. My release is writing but I don't seem to be drawn to it lately. John has given me some therapeutical assignments to vent my anger or frustration onto paper and I have been reluctant to do them. I think I'm afraid that if I really let go, if I really say everything I want to say the way I want to say it, something bad will happen. These assignments are just for me--no one else will see them. No one else will know the things I'm venting about, and yet I have procrastinated doing them for months. I have trouble letting go. I know this. I can see it. I can point it out. And the fact that I see it, know it, admit it and still cannot let go is my biggest challenge right now. I feel so stuck. I feel like I am about to burst, always about to burst and keep everything on lockdown, wandering around like a zombie because I'm afraid of being honest. I pray for balance. I pray that I can honor myself and grow and become decisive and independent while still holding onto my considerate nature. I want to find the balance between being selfish and selfless because I know that's where peace is. I want to take care of myself more and worry about others less. I want to stop being judgemental and putting labels on things and just live and be happy. I want to stop analyzing things and thinking so much. I want to start now.

writing...

So, I'm currently reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I am only a couple chapters in, and I find that I'm simultaneously moved and disappointed.  Moved because it is beautiful, simple, conversational wisdom that falls in line with EVERYTHING I believe about life and spirituality, and disappointed because I feel like it's a book I could have written, in very much the same style.  I guess my disappointment lies in the fact that it's taken me 28 years to finally realize that I don't really have any original ideas and that my writing style is not only popular but commonplace.  I guess if I want to start working on gathering my work to publish, I should focus on stories from my life that no one can imitate and derive from those stories the life lessons everyone else already seems to have a handle on.  They'll be written conversationally, with twinges of humor, but hell, it's a popular style for a reason right?  Cha-ching!  So, I guess that's a goal.  Sort of.  Goals have timelines though, so that's the next step.  That or figure out another way to be independently wealthy whilst steering clear of pyramid schemes, black-market organ harvesting rings and drug-runners at the Mexican border.  Not again, Tito.  Not again.