Work early.  Breakroom, or whatever room this is. 

Big, cold, with snacks and games, and time for me.  Time for me.  What I need after yet another hectic morning being the writing daddy readying the kids all on own, for whatever reason.  Short story ideas, brewing and simmering, fermenting in brain telling me to write them.  Don’t want to yet disclose what they’re about, but they’re there.  Very much there and present.

Yesterday’s inventory:  25 yay-saying shapes, two poems, writing in Sonic journal and Burgundy.  Thus far, this day… Thousand words to blog written from phone, and now this, this sitting.  Ten more minutes to self.  Probably could have come in at 9, but I want to collect time.  Learn more about this company.  How it works, how the people work, see self working harder than anyone around me or trying.  Writing the entire day, in the city and before I drive down there by self, and when back.  Remember to bring adaptor chord, so I don’t have to listen to flimsy Bay Area radio stations.  Need a certain mood, today.

Sip cinnamon dolce, cold, and continue in sitting.  Everyone happy it’s Friday, I can tell.  But I work tomorrow.  I work everyday.  My way.  Writing.  Was paid today but haven’t checked account balance.  Not in the mood to see money, the numbers, the account balances and reminding me of bills on their way.  Just want this, quiet and writing, self-instruction and meditation.  More jotting inward, knowing what the day has for me.  How do I make it different.  What can I do to either spice it up or make it more a writing piece.  Packed lunch for self, but have to take co-worker to lunch, someone from sales crew for hitting a goal, satisfying a challenge I offered out a week or so ago.  In fact, yes.  One week ago, today.

The coffee has me moving, not to any impressive writing speed, though.  A few minutes left.  Okay, It think to myself.  Put everything on these blogs.  Advertise self better.  Put everything out.  And this is more than some attempt or effort for “personal branding”.  This is life.  LIFE.  The story I’m in and what I’m not writing.  Blogging… huh…. Remember when it was recommended to me by wife’s sister.  At first I dismissed it.  And here I am, nine years later, at work but before work, writing for a blog.  One on life and work, being a writing and working father, trying to do what I can, dueling with moods and occasional low self-sight.  This morning, though, no such chemistry.  All in sky, in flight, looking down, above weights and thorn colonies.  Remedied.