14:19… Enjoying the jazz. And no, I didn’t go out to the fucking Field. Too cold, and the writer is in too much a writing rile at the moment. Little victory communicated by…. So, I’m smiling. Wish I could open some wine. No… saving for weekend. Valentine’s Day. Nurse already giving me some gifts that were everything – thoughtful, sweet, unique, funny. Seriously how does this girl do what she does?
Putting myself for a minute back in the professor notes. Not prepping for a meeting with students, and not seeing them as students but just writers. Readers. Thinkers. Trying to find their most true of purposes. We all are.
Lost my thought, but I fall back on the journal. Think of the eventual wine label, quotes on the front of the bottles, and blocks named after authors, maybe. Who knows. And no rush. Still have time. How about not think in the future’s whatever. Just enjoy the Now… here in the office, at the desk, just a couple hours before my son’s basketball game. He knows I’ll be there. Can’t wait honestly, and then I think of how quick he’s growing and he’s going to be fucking THIRTEEN in a matter of days.
Writing, part of this Mental Health recipe, or Road, matter or equation or exploration. Found myself AGIAN falling into some mood-mud on the drive but just talked myself out of it. Said it was unneeded and silly. For what do I have to in my Story to embrace such a pessimistic arc? I know what you might say, if you know me, but NO.
That does not register. Literally no blip on the fucking radar. This opens something, something that might actually help me finish the book. Or at least something to talk about when speaking. In a classroom, or at some “keynote” (hate that word), or convention, conference, wherever.
MENTAL.HEALTH. Some should seriously take theirs more seriously. Focus on SELF. And no I’m not judging or calling anyone out, I’m say we all should. And it should start with words. A journal. Whether you want to post it to a blog or not it doesn’t fucking matter.
Write your wants, dreams, visions, no matter how fucking bizarre or far-fetched you think someone might say they are. Who fucking cares what others think??? This is for YOU.
Credit to the Nurse, AGIAN, for urging me to focus more on SELF, Mental Health, Self-Care and Advocacy. No joke… this girl… I’M.DONE.
14:55
After taking a little break and allowing some music and distraction, I see what music is to me. Honestly, EVERYTHING. The #mymusicmoodnow project reminding me of itself, how I thought of it years ago, when everything started. Leaning on Thievery Corporation and Morcheeba, and I think Tycho to a lesser lesson, but still. And not just Electronica, but Hip-Hop and of course jazz, and some other beatific climates.
Paris. These pictures and paintings on the office walls. Already plans to go back, the Nurse with me this time of course. No idea where we’ll start. Like a dream, but something I deserve. Yes, ME. Anchoring thematic consistency for day and all days after this last word. Care for SELF… shame on me.