Said to myself, corny as it sounds, that this week needs to be a

“game-changer”.  Can’t believe I even used that phrase.  But I did.  Revival of certain practices with my writing, and more practice unto itself.  More of everything.  Arrived at the office a bit anxious, which is the case for most on Mondays but not me.  So I write it out, write it out of me and try to expel it like some hive or swarming circle of gnats.

Hate laptop all charged and cued up, ready for early, early morning writing.  Though, no.  No writing done.  Angered me and I kept saying ‘You need to wake earlier, go to bed earlier’.  Must have said that to myself a dozen or couple dozen times.  So, do I run today or write.  It’s great that I’m running as much as I am now, but it takes from the books, the articles and essays I have in note-form now.  Why leave it there, my not leave anything antithetical to writing or anything that blocks writing from happening.

Train carrying thought, lost.  What do I do with the day, with this AE life and role and story, and me in it.  Goddamn it….. why didn’t I wake earlier.  Didn’t have that much wine last night, so it’s not that.  I start planning for 4am tomorrow morning, now.  Receipts in small stack for reimburse.  Good, can get that off desk.  All I want on this surface are numbers to call, leads to contact and touch.

Found notes written on a Marriot cardstock.  Jotted when I went to that event on the Peninsula, for, what was it….  Structures.  Met a couple people there, didn’t develop much conversation.  What is it with this mood this morning.  Writing self out of it.  Stay busy… stay moving.  Sip this fucking coffee and get to work.  One of the notes—Create, Self-Educate, Elevate.  What I’m doing.  Now.  At the end of this project, I’ll be on a plane, going somewhere in this country (don’t see self getting booked to speak out of country that soon).  To read, speak about writing, how writing is always connected to mental health, to happiness, how you don’t wish occurrences or “things” into existence, but write it so.  What I’m doing now, have to do if I’m to move.

Hear people around me say good morning and “Mornin’….” Tired and in the same stroke and row as I am.  Today… calls.  Just calls and calls and calls.  Appointments.  Meeting at SSU later with wine business professor.  Not sure what I’ll ask her, or how it’ll start.  I’m just there to see where the conversation goes, and not in a surrendering or lazy way, just my own way.

8:49, already want another cup.  Walk out to car in a minute, see if I DID bring running stuff, or if I left it inside house.  Where is it?  Thinking too much.  Think of and see everything as a page, some character saying something. 

If this week is to be a “game-changer”  I have to do everything differently.  Everything.  Starting with the surface of this desk.

Sent expenses and beginning week reports.  Now what.. more coffee and walk to car.  Bite from cereal brought in little baggie.  What to do today, I keep asking myself and hearing the dog bark from the Marketing bullpen, I realize and stop—WORK.  WRITE.  WRITE EVERYTHING.  The morning continues to be odd, ‘cause I’m making it so.  And I laugh, I really do.  David Sedaris in my head and writing like him but not him only me and the new me of this day where I change the game I’m playing and how I play it.  What does that mean…. Laughing, comedy, comedic consideration of all this.

Can’t remember the last time I saw my desktop this clear, clean, unobstructed and concentration uninterrupted.  I’m calling, today.  All day.  Time, losing it and gaining more.  It’s hard to tell, and only ‘cause I’m acknowledging it in this manner and pulse. 

More coffee, please.  Much, much more. What about one of those cold brews.  No, ‘cause then I have to use my debit or that stupid SKU on my keychain.

Feel a cold coming, I swear, and I swear to self I won’t let it have me.  I can’t miss this meeting tonight, and I won’t.  So drink more coffee, and I know, I know… water.  I will.  Already needing a break I get up.

Back from car and with new coffee injection ready, I learn I didn’t bring my Garmin.  Or really I left it at home.  So I’m not running.  Hate running and carrying my fucking phone.  Today… thinking to the sbux on Stony Point, do some writing, other projects and stuff that’s not just stuff but, I don’t know, I’ll figure it out when I get there.  Yes, absolutely decided.  To Starbucks for lunch, thinking a sparkling water and one of those protein packs.  Don’t they call that a “power lunch”?  Maybe that’ll be definitive in this game-changing and augmenting day.

Not yet in a calling mode and mood, but I do know who I’m calling first, and an idea of how many calls I want to make. In the embrace of 60-70.  There has to be some appointments and interested humans in there somewhere.  60-70 calls?  Yeah, there WILL be.  And not cold-calling.  That’s not what I do, at all.

Little later in the morning and the exhaustion lands, wraps around me and I can only think of laying down, a pillow, blanket, quiet.  I’m ignoring those visions and dreams here at my desk, writing my way through and out of it.

Day 8 of the Second Pass at 100.  Needing my own office now and realizing the value to, more than I ever have.  And not value or practicality but just a plain and visible, immediate need.  More coffee, more re-sculpting and re-writing of practice.  Starting to think I might leave early, go home and lay down.  NO. 

DON’T.

11/18/19

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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