Up and I don’t have to be, but I couldn’t fall back asleep and wanted to be doing something. Last night didn’t get as much done as I wanted, so here I am. Anoche’s Chardonnay being kind with idea generation but of course this writer didn’t honor it appropriately, didn’t get to page three. Well today I have to, with this first cup and beyond I’m letting myself be completely and obnoxiously free, blissful. Selling myself on this idea of freedom and writing, freely writing about wine and not having to write about it like so many others do— and I’m not sure why I have to tell myself it’s okay, I know it’s “okay”, I guess I’m just contemplative this morning about so much, so much with life, with a career, with me as a father, husband, son, brother, all of it.
Now I definitely won’t go back to sleep. Was afraid there for a bit that I would, but now I know I won’t. Selling myself as well on the idea of having more, and that it’s not bad to want more. Not at all. Some would have you think you’re greedy and you’re a bit of a stooge for just ‘wanting’, but if you don’t want then you have no aim, and a character without aims is one without a story. No one hopes to read that, or anything like that. So I’m up. Now just past 7am and I have no interest in stopping. This isn’t “work ethic”, this is obsession. Obsessed with having more for a career and getting to where I want and NEED to be in order to set my family in the life quality I envision.
This morning, this day, this 18th of February, has sold me on ME, this new me, this ME I’m convinced I can be. That I have to be. And it’s about more than just sales and selling yourself on being able to do something or even the forward motion idea…. Today, and all days at my 12 are about happiness. Being happy. Couple semesters ago a student bought me a “Happiness Project” journal. Supposed to write one happy sentence in it for five years. Returning to that page-set, returning to me, returning to a singular and simplified but amplified goal— total, encompassing, inescapable happiness. Terminal happiness. Infectious happiness. Last night’s Chardonnay, I noticed, had a kind of happy disposition and rhetoric to it… funny, I remember thinking that during the last glass, just an hour or so before bed, that it tasted ‘happy’. Guess I need to be more like Chardonnay. Huh…. Anyway, keep writing.
Today’s sentence: “I love where I’m going, I love who I am, this is going to be good.”