Woke this morning before 5, like 4:30 or :40-something.

Couldn’t really go back to sleep.  Think I did for a bit, but not much.  Woke from one of those instances where you’re between wake and sleep and try to move but can’t.  Spooked me a bit so I was reluctant to close eyes and be back in dreams.  Went upstairs, got changed in closet so. I wouldn’t wake Melissa and both big kids who annexed our bed at some point last night, then little Henry to the right in his little rocking bed.  While in the closet space, I thought of the metaphor and writing assignment behind it…. Suppressing something – OR, being stationed, focused, operating in a minimalist.  I was contained in that closet, focused, individualist and told.  Went downstairs put on shoes and off to Starbucks for Melissa’s morning mocha and today me a latte.  Kids moving slow, Emma especially then away to their zoom school in Oakmont leaving me here in house.  

Only watched a bit of the morning news. Can’t stand the commercials surrounding the broadcast and the repeat of stories.  Starting to feel tired… what do I do.. nap of course.  Okay, but when.  You should see me now.. moving quicker than a hummingbird’s wings if they were on uppers.  The latte, abetting.

Day 217 of my 365 effort, or way to track my character.  This blog turning into something, finally…. Still not sure what.  And that’s okay.  Isn’t that how Facebook started?  Not that I’m trying to do what he did, just… something.

Screenshot of time this morning when I left bed – 6:40am.  If I would have started writing right when I woke, 4-whatever, who knows what I’d have now.  Was going to get out of the house for a bit and walk around in territory but don’t have the energy for that.  Each day, a business, a project, a story or/and book.

Just remembered a lead I didn’t touch yesterday.  Shit… two actually.  Just sent a couple emails.  Today I need to get back to prospecting as I did.  In our network print.  Where do I start… door by door, just follow the lines on map I tell myself.  You’d have to know what I’m talking about for that to mean anything, so… never mind.

The early wake now taking a toll on me and my nerves and eyes, they’re heavy and wanting to do nothing.  Early hours continue to fascinate me, and the people that operate in them.  Baristas, pilots, police officers, ER doctors and nurses, Uber drivers, anyone.  How do they do that?  Can writers be seen in the same way?  Bloggers?  Me?  Do it and don’t think.  This is me talking to me trying to shape this AE sea, what I do and bring to page, what I’m to be doing now with prospecting and generating business.  Whatever I’m supposed to do.

What am I “supposed” to do?  Like right now.  The latte isn’t telling me.  Thought of a book title, wrote it.  Journal.  This awesome 1948 Journal Dad gave me, that I always mention on this blog.  Not sure if it’s actually form 1948, but that year is stamped on inside over, soon as you open.  With a question mark Dad wrote at one point… even he didn’t know, but want to.  Where is it was from… time-wise.