Reports are in. Today’s focus again is conversation. Writing letters. Following up on conversations from last week. Just made note to self to email guy I met down on peninsula, Friday, who went to my high school. Not at the same time obviously but anything helps, all such intersections and conversations are boons and valuable hooks.
Cards all over the desk surface, where do I start. Driving the Prius here, a vessel I angrily and wholly loathe, I thought about money and income streams, needing more to replace that crusty shitboat. Moving money, keeping track of everything I do, today. Everything is to produce revenue. I don’t connect with people just to be connected to them. I mean, the relationship is genuine and heartfelt but it should be no surprise to anyone that you’re a business person. The goal is growth. Ascension is the aim.
Eating the cereal I put in a baggie. Actually two, there were two different types of cereal. One, mini-wheats, frosted of course, and the other the crunchy Raisin Bran that’s a bit sweeter, or crunchy, interesting, something, I don’t know.
In the office. I guess some have the day off today, schools and other businesses but I don’t. And I’m rejoicing, celebrating that I’m working. Why… I’m not just making it my own but I’m not allowing this to be work. This is a studio, a gallery, an opportunity of opportunities. Not the wine industry. Yesterday at the winery really reminded me of why I want to get out of the TR. People… my love and point of detest. My group, intoxicated and loud, antagonistic and they didn’t tip. They bought like 5 bottles I think, but still. It’s not here. There’s not the creative invitation… here I feel I can bring anything to life. Literally. Like a sexy Frankenstein, or artful one. Hate how people use the word sexy to mean something interesting, or uniquely engaging. Why not just say that. Why didn’t I, just then.
Keeping a productivity journal, or list for the day. Exactly what I do, or what I can remember. Running at noon or 1pm as I emailed in my flight plan for day, to director. So now… Where do I keep that list? Have one more piece of paper flying around my surface here? Guess I have to.
9:56. 4 things done. Should have ten. Oh.. can add one blip to list I forgot about.
About to take a break, go to the back and get some coffee…. Where is my me-journal, the one I keep on person as much as I can to write notes to self, little in-the-moment jots, and what-not.
Found it. In backpack. Yes I’m using the backpack again. Hated just lugging the laptop back and forth from shitboat to office, along with coffee cup, and whatever else. Feel scattered and anxious this morning and I’m not at all a fan, like I’m juggling chainsaws and bowling balls, cracked-out catnip-filled cats and fishhooks. Breathe, I tell myself, and you should tell yourself. Breathe, meditation, relax.
Running in less that two hours, phone conversation in less than one hour with more senior AE.
It is possible to have too many projects, too many to-do’s. All I need is one blog, one book. What I’m saying to myself now wanting more coffee and having to do some money-moving if I’m to get my car. And… what do I want? I don’t want some typical fucking dad cart, like a small Toyota or some shitty truck. I want something that I want, and of course I think of my dad and all the awesome cars and trucks he’s had, HAS. Him and Mom. So…. What do I want. This is a good distraction, and path for a solid new aim… my new ride. What.. what? A Mustang? I don’t see myself as a truck guy, though…. The truck my Dad has is pretty boss. So…..