Tag: self-care

Categories
just writing

Caffeine is REALLY working. First call queued,

gathered a document I needed to… weather on, and not much of a system. Certainly not a storm.  Just a drizzle pat.  Weather jazzing, light high-hat.

8:13am, commercial.  All these car commercials.  So many of them in the morning, ever notice that?  Then a garage door commercial, then PSA from PG&E which I think is comical in a wild height of ways.

8:14am…. Then feel tired.  Up at, what 5:08?  I’d have to look.  Henry falling asleep only to wake enraged.  Poor little human.

8:15am……..  Wait, WHAT?  Woman dressing up as old ladies so they can get their vaccines?  THANK YOU.  See, this is what I needed.  This is a story.  I wonder if they did voices too.  Oh I wish I saw that, was there to see them with the glasses and that blanket-like cloth over their back and around their shoulders.  Oh that’s great… I cannot stop thinking of jokes and imagining them in their characters.

8:17….  Traffic.  Want a drive.  AE buddy David said he’s driving to Death Valley.  Jealous me here on couch with two fucking laptops, calls to make.

Categories
wine

10:06am

Readying for run.  FINALLY, I think to myself.  Going to load some new songs.  Aim is only 5k.  Starting over as a runner.  New plan.. more shorter runs.  Lower pace.  If I catch myself doing the first mile in 8-anything, I’m going to slow to a glorified old man trot.

Head down San Miguel, then back up, do some laps at park… then play in Coffey Park streets… looping, cul-de-sacs, short streets and void the longer boring ones…

55 degrees right now.  Perfect.  Looking for new songs… don’t eat till after noon.  Have to remind myself… right about now is when the core begs for contribution.

Old friend reaches out to me for some wine information, wineries that I like that might need some DTC assistance.  Say again to self… it’s wine.  Forever.  My topic, my brand, my identity and work in life, life for love-working, more than any lousy labor.. this is all love.

Categories
autre

And like that, he’s 9.

NEW DAY.  RESTART.

Latte, awake.  Not thinking about yesterday or day before.  

Cure is comedy, the humanness is in the humor.  Part of me laughs at me, while the other half…. Who cares what the other half does.  Following the humor.

Jackie and I headed to a sporting goods store close by to get him a new bat, some batting gloves, and some batting gloves for me then to the batting cages in Rohnert Park.  Pretty sure they’re open.  I mean, they ARE outside.

Go upstairs to see Handsome/Henry.  Soon he’ll be 9, and I’ll be even older.  Wonder if I’ll have anything old people have, like a grapefruit penchant, or a reclining chair, or several short-sleeve collared shirts with checker patterns….

Categories
just writing

journal

Not my day, as I just noted someone.  Start over… as a writer and person and character in this day.  Cease with this malignant rigidity… or maybe that’s the thing, I’m not rigid enough as a writer or person or blogger or, well, anything.  Certainly not as a runner.

Maybe try loving self a bit more I think.  Okay… how?  Like this blog says, “#dowhatyoulove”.  Not sure I have it in hashtag form.  Either way, do something for yourself… go for a drive.  Go taste wine somewhere.

Decided no.  Read instead.  Ms. Lawson.  She knows what this is like.

3:22pm Back from a drive.  Rain, cold, no reshaping of tenor.  What so I accomplish in this ongoing plenary.  

Stop…. State what’s ensuing.  To journal….  Wrote something.  Feel a little better. Recover through writing, honesty with self, with others if you want but for sure with the 1948 journal.

Wife’s friend outside talking and she just won’t stop.  What is she doing here anyway?  Another free meal?  Wouldn’t be surprised.  A second ago, right when I came home and sat down I could hear her right outside on other side of the window here talking about Valentine’s Day and ….

Categories
autre

Yesterday’s stressful threads extending into today.

Woke this morning feeling a little scratched in throat, slow in nose, but after a cup of the most aggressive coffee I could throw together I’m a better better.

Have some wine arriving today.  Committing self to a post a day on the vinovinevin blog.  Bring it to life in 2021, before my birthday, or on.  My present to myself.  Jack and I home alone now, Handsome/Henry upstairs.

Chasing construction companies.  Have a new established and etched “vertical” that will not move.  Won’t let it.  The symbol of building, architecture… a structure.

Structure in my mood and attitude.  Letting anything into your wiring that would steer you away from opportunity is a choice.  And frankly one that cannot be made anymore.

Hear my two month-old poet upstairs, just making sounds and reciting.  No concern for accuracy or making any number… just speaking to speak.

Move today, I urge anyone.  Just move and develop structure and strategy as you go.  More value of whim than obsession with blueprints.  Not saying plans are harmful, but too much investment in them is what sows stressful threads.

Worth with already-made music.  Stress is accepted.

Categories
just writing

Sent contract off.

Reports sent to director, and sold 6 bottles of Caddis to friend from old neighborhood.  4-shot latte nearly done.  I’m in character, in frame, About EVERYTHING, this morning.  Kids were in the highest of spirits, and so was I.  Love my morning drives with them int he morning, singing to certain tracks, many of them Timbaland or produced by him as Jack loves his work.  Emmie singing along as best she can then picking up a book and reading it to herself.

Little writing break here, thinking of making a list, of points to hit in day.  Wondering if I want to run.  Probably should, as it’s said it’ll rain tomorrow.  But that doesn’t matter does it?  Ir an the other day in the rain.  Five miles, right?  Pardon my quick quickness this morning… I’m just already lovingly attached and heartily harnessed to the new week.  One idea speaking from and stemming toward another.

Wine last night, that 2010 Cab Franc, not hitting me.  Good lesson in aged wine, as there was a bit of brick in its visual body, and a slight musty call in its lip.  Not as enjoyable as I’d hoped.  It was the lesson, though.  Like with this. Morning, Henry upstairs not wanting his mother to leave and go for her run.

Upstairs to see him…

Feed time for the petit human.  Back to notes.  Running, coffee… the new machine Mom bought me.  Will test it out later, after run when that afternoon sinker sets in.  Not sure what direction is next in the morning.  I’ll be with Henry in a bit, and studying his actions I’m sure this morning thinking while driving about he doesn’t try to make sense when he makes his sounds he just makes a sound.  Prospecting is much the same.  Just say something, the person’s reaction is beyond your control.  Of course what you say should be kind and inviting, and I guess I’d say interesting or entertaining, but what happens next is independent of your navigation.

With the contract off, and waiting to send another, I think about my office.  Conversations, creativity, words….. architecture of thought.  Want to dive back into exploring and looking at businesses, but I hold off.  Force self to stay int he chair.  Writing to self, what I see for my business, the next house we live in…. Dreams but not.  Visions, but more tangible and immediate.

One of the aims I write down, “Ten new leads, list them one after the other, one piece of paper, tear out page, tape to desk.”

Nearly forgot to submit timecard.  Maybe I’m moving too fast.  Or not fast enough, this morning.  Latte done.  Switching to water, hydrate and get some water to circulation and system before run.  Forgetting the timecard submission, nearly, puts me in a strong consideration of time and life, work, life’s work again.  Writing, creating, wine, running, kids….

Blending all columns and rows.  Life alchemy, play….  EVERYTHING.  Time doesn’t care if I’m on-time, it just moves.  Maybe I shouldn’t run, maybe I should stay at the desk, keep with my creative sake.

Categories
Productivity

Thinking everything Architecture, building, buildings, homes, winery structures…

Everything to this second latte of day.  2 shots.  Looking at Architecture firms all over the Bay Area, with normal intention just looking.  What they produce, colors and angles, windows and walls.

Our next house, the house I grew up in on Bayview Drive in San Carlos.  Dad told me he interviewed over 20 architects.  Should have asked Dad what questions he asked in the interview process.

What am I looking for in this search for and excavation of architects?  Maybe nothing, maybe I’m just exploring, on the Road with no priority to destination.  That could be.

Daddy, it’s fine, Jackies says behind me just being silly. M3 arriving in 4 days.  We will assuredly need a bigger house, I know that now and have for a while.  And, I know it’s on me.  I need something to amplify…. Get up earlier.  4am, on a Saturday.  That HAS to produce something.  Wake and write, create, note all thoughts.

Architecture.  The edifice, supported, appearance, voice and tone.  Essays and architecture, just making notes.  No goal.  Kids are already stirring in a certain curve of crazy.  Jack asks me to come upstairs with him and read a book. I bring my laptop thinking I’m going to get something done.  Funny.  Yeah, that’ll happen.  Jack asks aloud which book he should read, and with a sarcastic tone inference of interest.  Emma soon arrives and tells us that she’s going to read a book too.  I thank her, she thanks me back.  I thank her for thanking me.  She doesn’t get it.

Architecture fo the day, of my mood now, calm and careless.  Not concerned, and in no way stressed or pressured.  Whatever this attitude composition is, need be trapped, kept, deconstructed.  The engineering behind it…. I just said oh well, and decided on smiling, writing, being with them.  The Engineering is the deciding of things and movements.  The Architecture is the before and after, I think.  Still playing with the word and suggestion of Architecture.

Jack now shows off how he can burp on command.  I try to be that strict or proper dad by telling him to stop.  Rather, I laugh with little control.  Then it’s quiet, just notices I was the only one making any sound.  Wonder how long this’ll last.

Jack burps again, and laughs, adding “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about SON.”

I laugh again, and the meditative air in the room runs away.

“Can we get a retriever?” Jack says.

“If you pay for it.” I say.  I think he knows it’s a joke but there is no agreement with the joke, it didn’t land, so I follow with another saying “Better get that money, SON.”

No laughing, no appreciation of my joke, but rather a question.  “Do you want a dog, Dada?” I don’t return with a solid answer, rather an evasive statement and common excuse of having to do something for work.

Emma says she bored, Jack brags that he isn’t.  This aggravates Emma, saying “Stop iiiiiiiiiiit….” to Jack.

The architecture of the day and its scenic setup teaches me I don’t need to look.  Ever.  All my books are right here.