No one responding, and just not seeing the point to prospecting right now. Kids loud, and me not wanting wine at the moment but thinking I need it. Not like that, but it would calm the course and contour of my attitude presently.
More than in prior days, or any day since the pandemic hit, do I want to wake early tomorrow. Run, then write. Or write, then run right when kids get into class. Not excited about the wines I have in the house, much I love Caddis. Trying to write while my kids talk loud and play that infernal game with one of Jack’s friend is like trying to box a kangaroo while in a straightjacket. Mental eroding, decaying, thinking of jokes but find none of them funny. Jokes about adjunction, the wine industry, covid, kids at home and being locked in house all day with them…. Find the funny in it all. Think Sedaris-like. That’s how I’ll get through this.
My quota… yes I killed it last year, but how will I do so this year. Starting to think it’ll be tougher than 2020. Can they can me for that? Would that be a good thing? I’m thinking crazy right now, I know. Symptoms of stirred and shaken craziness. A crazy-tini and I’m not getting any kind of fun buzz.
Moving on. Or trying. With some Sauv Blanc. So what did I do today…. Call with Sales Engineer and one of my IT partners, found some new leads…. Organized a bit. So not saying the day was a complete loss, but….
Thinking of the last thing my grandmother said to me, or one of her last servings of wise words… “It’s your life. You have YOUR choice.” I’ve gone over those words over and over since then… 2013. What did she want me to do? What did she want me to think? What would she say about me, now, where I am and what I’m doing.
I look at the SB in the plastic cup that I took from Roth a couple years ago, and know I would NEVER go back to a tasting room full-time. Of course, I don’t have to, but what if the economy really gets punctured and I did get laid-off. Would I? I guess then, I would. I’m with sight entirely dismal right now.
Jokes… make fun of something.
How about the kids. They’re mad. Utterly certifiable. And I find them hilarious, and their lack of concern encouraging. Want to be them, like them, write like them and have more of their freed wiring about the soul, mind, writing, and just sitting in a chair and thinking. The craze IS composition.
Kids down here now yelling around me and I’m not so amused. What a grumpy fuck I’ve turned into. Glass done, need another. Then they go upstairs. Why can’t adults be that manic? Well, you can, but then you’re label, or given pills, or looked at like you’re THAT.
Thought I was going to call the day. Why the FUCK am I writing. Why do I feel the need to curse so much, and curse everything. #dowhatyoulove, one of this blog’s principles. In order to so do, madness must be embraced, and reinvention entertained.