Certain people are just sad.  And I let them get to me.  Why.. I really do need to talk with myself as Mom suggests.

The kids.. THE KIDS.  Watch them.  They have no like-worries or concerns.  Their concerns this morning: waffles, Paw Patrol, Fortnite, the rain and if it’ll affect baseball practice, orange juice with waffles.  Amazing.  I will be more like them, avowed.

Relationships… the topic in my head again, right when I woke up after having a dream about….  And how I miss her, and thinking of certain dinners or time spent together… can’t go there.  I want to, but I only get sad.

Switching—  To the short story idea, or longer short story, maybe a novella I don’t know.  Fiction either way.  Wine critic who just says ‘fuck it’ with his job and judging wine, the industry, everything about it.  Quits.  Takes some time off, write about Self, the mind, thinking and thought and what he lets himself think about, what humans tend to go over and over in their minds.

He was a Philosophy major, even getting a Master’s Degree.  Thought about teaching but never did.  The thought of grading papers terrified him….

Still working on the story.  Need to start writing it, in its own journal, or something.  No. Idea what the character’s name is… and distracted by those thoughts.  So I counter the distraction with another distraction.

Thought and Mindfulness…. Love of SELF.  Nothing wrong with that, I don’t think.  Arranging my attitude’s architecture in a such a way that negative people and their micro-blather in ill-composed jabs doesn’t land.


He asks himself what is the one thing he wants from work.  How does he see himself, day to day.  He doesn’t know, and in that there’s a loud reward.

Peace, unlock.