2/5/18

Morning, early, finishing article, or one of my ‘wild writes’, and now have to dive into grading papers.  The part of teaching I enjoy least, do know.  But I have to do it.  I will, in my won and own way, not some perception of how papers are to be “graded”.  Ugh… and anymore, I hate that.  Grading papers, students being evaluated and told how good or bad, how strong or weak they are.

One minute left for me to be free in this write, in this morning… exercising my rights as a wild writer, or wine and self-education… seeing everything different this morning, and it’s from waking and not just going back to bed.  Can’t thank the universe, the Story, enough for making me awake stay.

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Go to war for your SHOP!!!!!!!!  Just wrote in my notepad, now back into an hour for me, to write freely, about business and life and how now is one of those times where I just want my own office.  In the shop, so I don’t have to sit next to two ladies speaking loudly to each other about family drama and all their projects.  Guess I do something somewhat similar on the blogs from time to time, but… yes, here I am and this is what’s taking place.  Overthinking…not doing it today.  My pages continue to get wilder and wilder, and I only see myself in travel, traveling everywhere for and with wine.

Now, another piece about to be finished.  What was it about this morning that made me decide to get up from bed, go turn on the coffee machine and just get to it… me, my brand and company.. the wild wine writer and wild writer in principle practice.  The music in this Starbucks is loud, and annoying me.  Then, a cramp in my right forearm… am I getting carpel?  No.. that’s in the hands, right?  I think of all the injuries sustained on the crush pad by production staff, and out in the vineyard.  I sound like a baby, but I have to deliver to page what’s happening now.

Have to use restroom, not even halfway into my mocha, but don’t want to surrender my spot.  Interrupted by call but I keep writing…. But, no blenching.  No wavering or questioning self, wondering if what I’m doing with my writing, be it about wine or education, is “right”.  The morning just goes further into its count, and I rival its energy and moment as I did right when I woke.  In the shop, I see myself pouring wine for visitors from another country, but even before pouring I explain the intention of the shop, my intentions with wine, briefly, and what I hope they leave with beyond mere bottle purchases.  The shop represents consolidation, positive persistence through life, and work.  Work, not just what you do but who you are.  Not just living in passion and doing your passion for work, but the denotative and connotative immediacy of passion.  Love.  Happiness.

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