3:18, lunch with other AE was amazing. Talked of course about work and meeting quota and prospecting new business, everything you’d expect from 2 Ae’s. Then we went deep into music, listening to what was playing at 3rd Street Aleworks, then music we ourselves have made, he telling me about songs he’d record and post to YouTube at the beginning of the Pandemic. I need to make music again, I thought.. starting with verses. Writing one tonight, no fail.
Meeting at Moonlight Brewery up the street in a few. Right now, just letting the workweek end. Objectives set for tomorrow. Meeting a friend later in day to discuss a possible business move. Need to wake early for run. Quiet in house, only me and thoughts, of where the story is…. Not writing as fast, and that’s okay. Visiting my Lancaster sisters earlier, after the lunch meeting – talking about wine and the property. Didn’t take one picture, which is rare for me. Just wanted to be there, present, talking with Taryn and Larissa, Petya and the others.
Can’t get over how quiet the house is, and how it’s Friday. Hate that give Friday such medal. Feeling exploratory, redrawn. Pages…
Sent out a proposal, see if I hear anything. Followed up on all leads.. may reach out to another AE, see if they want to have lunch. Need to get out.. was supposed to be in the street with another AE today, but cancelled having to get the pricing out to yesterday’s phone call prospect.
Walking away from desk in a bit… OH, first…. Messaged another AE, see if lunch can happen. It can. Great… 12pm need be there. No run today, maybe weights— no, DEFINITELY weights later. In garage.
Want more photog, more videos, more production, multimedia, CREATIVE. Today’s aim, one video, one photo.. that’s it. Centered around Bottledaux and the #professormikey identity. Last night’s class had me energized and somehow different in mood and character, my writing ways and beat, music, I don’t know what else to say. I have this image of me, in an apartment, writing in the morning, then going for a run, coming back and writing more, then meeting with other bloggers over lunch— SHIT, another idea…
Morning iactive and live, alive and consistent. Bottledaux more identity, in the form of, hard to say. Just new life and language.
Not before some writing and quiet. In the Autumn Walk room. Thinking about Friday and telling self not to acknowledge day name. Friend posted on Facebook news of a friend of hers dying, certainly younger than me. Why do I stress about anything, ANYTHING. Be it sales or quota, teaching online (Last night by the way went beautifully with the 1A sections…), the shift, running, ANYTHING. I’m enjoying and writing each day, everything that happens.
This new Mike Madigan and his story….. Happiness, calm, Composition like I discussed last night and in the last leads meeting. I put on some LoFi beats and contribute to what I want the atmosphere to be… I imagine myself in my office, writing for the day, for a couple hours then a run. Today needs to be more than yesterday’s 5k. Could I pull off 5 miles I ask myself. Not sure. I have time.
Happiness and being happy isn’t a product of or extension from perfection, I realize. Not even sure balance has much to do with it. More so, I see it as the dimension of self-peace… knowing your Beat, enjoying the character you are, and the story…. Posted all that to blog for 1A students. This semester, another over zoom and email and the #professormikey blog, what can you do. Just accept it and work with it I guess. Not sure what call to make first. Have to prepare a proposal for a new lead, one I was sure would be garbage but actually may materialize, thank the universe.
Mom sending me a video from her walk yesterday, showing me a writing spot. Fuck, I thought, I should’ve gone up there. Fuck sales, and Santa Rosa…. No, I then say, I did the right thing staying here. I need to get up there though, soon, or somewhere. Go on this self-Road trip I’ve been envisioning and toying with.
Do some budgeting moves, then in AE mode. May take self out to lunch today, somewhat of a Friday tradition. May, haven’t decided yet. Need to fit a run somewhere in the hours. Time now 8:25. Huh, thought it was later. Nice surprise.
7:54, already an email in from a client on a change to their account. In a mood this morning but I’m ignoring it – Drink Coffee, Write Books, Be Happy. The business plan. Keep telling myself.
Have to send out zoom link for tonight’s first office hours of semester. Who knows how many will show. Just sent link, now I work on self, this mood, the story in general. 8am lands. Finding happiness in the day, and stopping my complaining, the voice to self of grievance and citation, disquietude and agitation. I’m over it. Much of it, I’ll concede, extends from sales and how NOTHING is connecting. Even with all the leads and conversations I have. I honestly don’t get it, I’m more than just at a loss.
I’m taking the time for ME, now. Even enjoying the news and hearing the same story and traffic report every 20 minuets or so. It doesn’t bother me.
Posted writing from Steele & Hops, from yesterday, just before sitting for these words. I remember what Ms. Lawson said, about the brain lying to you. My thoughts are absolutely little fucking liars. Today is going to be luminous, bombastic, a bridge to fruition of the plan ‘coffee, writing, happiness’. Felt good to write that. And isn’t that the point, to all this? To feel good? To enjoy your day? To celebrate even the most minute of joys?
Call at 9:30, then one at 11. Not that I’m not looking forward to either, I’m just indifferent. Actually I don’t even know if that’s the right word, I’m just taking everything as it connects and intersects. Not sure if that’s the right attitude or approach, but that’s me now, what I know. Again asking self where the stress is coming from, sales of course and the utter absence thereof. What can I do but what I can do. Topic next….
Commercial getting my attention, printing on screen “love it or lose it”, and I start thinking about everything. EVERYTHING. Life, family, me, my health, this page, this morning… literally everything. And nearly becoming emotional. Oh my god what the fuck…. C’mon Mikey, get a grip. Remember, coffee writing happiness. That simple. It IS, that simple.
8:18am, will be taking out the AE laptop in a bit. And doing so with numbness. And too with comedy. Come on, I have to find this funny, right? I’m stressing over meeting quota during a pandemic, still, and while the shift is occurring. I have to find this funny, I have to. That is the key, the medicine, the absolute solver of all this shit.
Earthquake in Haiti, ugh. Makes me realize I shouldn’t be complaining. About ANYTHING. Today, a lesson. This morning, the first page. Making this morning different. The day as well. I remember something Bob Coleman, my favorite English Professor at SSU, said during one of the many times I visited his office. “Definitional clarity”, know what the word and idea means, top to bottom. My word, now, this morning, and going forward – HAPPINESS. No compromise, no negotiation, no settling. All or nothing.
At Steele & Hops, doing a little work and slowly drinking a traditional West Coast IPA. All they have here are Hazy’s I feel. I don’t get the whole Hazy thing, I told my friend Alix. There’s a lot I don’t get, like being an AE anymore. No sales landing still, and I’m at my fuck-it point. Set a phone appointment for tomorrow, see where it goes. Do I go back to wine? Blog about it like Jenn told me to forever ago? Told myself something was going to happen here, for business, for MY business, for ME.
Waiting….. Alix over a the bar talking to guys that are probably hitting on her. Good for her, them, everyone, as long as I’m left to work. I can’t be in a tasting room, pouring wine and saying the same shit over and over.. that’s something that assuredly won’t work for this writer. Tonight, at the fucking desk. There, work… focus on the book, the blog, everything that will get me to the There. Looking at wineries, and thinking of applying but even the image of me filling out an application and interviewing makes me sick. So where does that set and abet the writer.. uncertain. Lost my way a bit, I think maybe. So find it again. Easy, right? Not at all.. where the fuck do I even start. I’ve definitely grown out of teaching. Only rationalization for taking the two 1A sections was money. SRJC pays well and I need every penny I can in this shift.
I need to not give so many fucks, maybe. Like that Senior AE recommended before covid when we had lunch in the city that day, then walked around and dropped in on businesses saying hello and letting them know our fiber-optic services were live in the area.
Let’s just say for the sake of whatever or nothing I start over, COMPLETELY, right now. Here, having this beer, today, now, on Mendo & Steele, at the same table I often write at. Forget teaching, forget wine, forget internet and tech. Shit, that doesn’t leave me with much. Maybe keep one of them. NO – start over like you said. 42 and I’m having these thoughts. Listening to music, so, then, MUSIC. Okay… LoFi hip-hop is where I am, what I’m hearing.
4:01, Jackie’s game at 5:30. The day getting ready to close. I get a text message, respond briefly. Back to wine thoughts, all the tasting rooms I’ve worked at, all the wine I’ve tasted… I keep returning to those thoughts and stories. Nearly tearing up as I remember the days at St. Francis, behind the bar with a group of friends that made it feel like anything but work. I want more of those day, I WILL have them. Soon. Tonight, Cabernet, or something. Something commanding and persuasive.
Ordering a glass of wine next, and some water. Need be collected and composed. The current track has me meditative, thinking of my life’s work, and the rest of my life… how I don’t know when the story stops. Talking with an old fiend over text, her story similar to mine with a certain shift…. Yes, discard certain dimensions, forever. Keeping only ONE.
Vin.
Allix comes by to check in, asks me what I’d like.
“What kind of red wine do you have?” I say, realizing the way I asked, those words, sounds so novice and rookie and civilian.
“We have a Pinot Noir, and a Syrah-Grenach blend…”
“Who’s the blend from?” I ask.
“The Larson Project.”, she says.
I order the latter. Back to typing. Realizing the wine story is About EVERYTHING. Where you are, what you’re doing, where you’re going, what you’re thinking.
Think this bottle may have been open a bit too long, but don’t want to bug her and say some shit like that. See, this is interesting, this is how “industry” people are, and how they think. If they’re polite. I’m not going to say anything obviously, but I know other wine business people I know wouldn’t think twice about bringing it to her attention, or maybe even snapping at her and saying sound douchey shit like, “This isn’t good.”, or “This wine is bad, when was it open?”
And maybe nothing’s wrong with the vino. Maybe it’s the style, or the way they produced it. Should’ve been a winemaker. Though, harvest is coming up, and seeing all these pictures and how the winemaking teams are already stressing and are like “Oh fuck…”, maybe not. I’m fine where I am, I have plenty to write.
I think about all I have to do and what I should attack first, and what if I forget something… then I remember something else and am distracted by that and not finishing the other thing. STOP, I tell SELF. Of course this is not healthy, I know.
And just now I receive a message— Then an email. This adds to the anxiety.. Then something else. I try selling myself on the fucki-it philosophy. Doesn’t work. What do I do now… prospect more, finally take a shower, go to storage unit…. Work offsite and if so where. Much too wired to take a nap like I’ve done recently, one of my power 30-minutes of closed eye. That actually sounds amazing right now, to be honest.
Then another matter pops up like one of those African gophers that are really cute… what are those called again? Oh shit.. forget to send an email. See what I mean? I need a break. Even from this. I am experiencing more anxious episodes as I get older, but are they “episodes”? That sounds so clinical, and textbook term-y. I breath, I step away, but the shit follows me. Yeah, it could be because of everything going on outside of work, with the shift, but…. Who knows.
10:47, and hungry. No run happening today, of course. Seeing all these runners early in the morning tells me I need to do that and that’s the only way it’s going to happen. Obviously. Idea… go get some breakfast, come back and shower, then head to work offsite. Jackie’s game is at, what, 5:30? Trying to sort everything out and maybe this is what causes it. Maybe a fuck-it/go-with-the-flow approach is better. Hard to do that when you have a quota, but maybe that’s EXACTLY what I need to do.
In office, 2:13, coffee, done with Mid-Month meeting with director. Still no stales. One prospect just emailed back and said he has no more questions for me after I checked in. He’s meeting with his business partners and will run my proposal by them.
Need to stay on top of call this morning, and the build requests. Will write request to upper-management tonight for approval of the whole deal’s composition. Not doing now as I need this writing break, this pause. This coffee…. Call at 3. After that, leave office. Work at a writing spot some— Something at work comes up. Shit.
Nothing major, just an account adjustment. 15 days counting today to get the goose off the board. Have plenty in the “funnel”, but not a lot of movement. Patience, yeah I get it, but it’s tough, and for some reason tougher this time around. Not sure why. Maybe ‘cause of the shift? No idea. Need more consolidation…
Don’t plan on being here long. Going to Acre to work, sip water and go through new leads. What new leads…. Whichever ones I can find, or already have.
Calm, then I think of sales…. WHY. I have to reshape my mind…. Answer student emails. Will later. This absolutely, MUST BE, the last semester. Already stressing about when I’ll find time to grade papers. But why stress, I made it work last Fall, somehow…
Thinking consolidation, what can I get rid of.
Emailed students. Is it time for a nap yet? Loving how my mind work, in terms of what I want, where my focus is. No urge to get a new camera anymore, nor music equipment. I only want this, the journals, the laptop…. pages. Books done, whenever I finish one.
About to turn off news. It’s bringing down my temperament and general beat. Same thing, which I find funny. Just repeated over and over. No there us nothing funny about covid nor Afghanistan’s turmoil, but the news going in circles is. I don’t know, just me this morning.
Both big kids this morning eager to get out the door, Jackie telling me about his class last night when we went to get dinner. Emma smiling this morning from when she came downstairs to when she walked out the door, “Bye Dada…..” I credit her with me bright mood now, no matter what’s going on with sales.
Taking out the AE laptop in a bit, putting this one away.
…..
10:55. Call with Sales Engineer and IT partner earlier went well. Submit for build costs on two sites. Laundry in dryer, and I may have to rest my eyes for a couple minutes. Again angry with self for not running. I need to get miles in morning, afternoon never works with hunger and work and sinkers like the one I now feel. I’m being hard on self, I know. And I need to. Need to do what my buddy Abe does, 4 or 5 in the morning. Gym and then DONE. Well, for me it’d be run then done. I can’t run on tread with a mask. Some of it is refusal, and the rest and majority really is inability. I can’t do it.
At other house. 9:11. Rest of latte and quiet after shaving, shower, new clothes. This week I’m not caring as much. More free, freedom. In everything from the Fall semester to being an AE. Thought in the shower yesterday and today about consolidation… what I want, and what I sometimes think I want. Speaking money on a new camera, then music equipment like I did in my 20s and early 30s. No.. I stop myself. This is Mike Madigan, here on page, early in morning writing listening to Tycho or some other atmospheric instrumental while writing. I think I get it… result from yesterday’s project and business, 81421.
On my cruise around Windsor and Santa Rosa, I thought again of this, what I’m going through, and how I need to be more open about it.. narrate everything, put literally every fucking thing on Bottledaux— No, THROUGH it. This is a medium, a company, a distributor of thought. Oh shit, this is one of those ideas that literally makes your heart move weird, and breathing becomes something you have to think about because you notice you’re not breathing as much as you should. DIVORCE… there, I said it. So what. No, I shouldn’t say that, but I should go further into it. Have this blog and company be my new counsel. Huh… And, a way of being more honest with myself and the world, everyone around me, even—
I have to love mornings like this as a writer, yes, but Human more so. Time for me, to build and assemble more character architecture. The 1A sections are going to teach me again how to write, explore and put SELF to page. 9:17 now, need different music. Was thinking Mr. Coltrane, but Mr. Rollins calls. Poetry, in everything. While in tasting room today, finish syllabus, write students…. I imagine myself a certain Sedaris, not as fine a penner or storyteller of course, but with his use of the immediate. And watching his class last night for the 394th time and he saying how he loves Tobias Wolff and his short story style. This morning puts me in those observations and confessions inward and outward – “Again, Mike,” it says, “put EVERYTHING on page. Even the painful, uncomfortable shit.”
The page is right. Nearing time when I should leave, but I’m closer to the Square, here in Skyhawk, so maybe I’ll wait till 9:50, or :55. More moments like this me approach, I know. Latte done. New song from Mr. Rollins, quicker than last, and I’m trying to match his pace but I can’t. Travel, the page tells me to get out of Santa Rosa… do what your mother says and flee to Oregon for a few days. “Fuck sales.”, it says. I raise both eyebrows, and consider. Who knows where I’ll land.
A day in a tasting room, today. Wine and wine people. That too, I’m shedding, eventually. Like I said the other day to someone, maybe one day a small label with my sister, but……
Emma comes downstairs by herself, no big brother in tow. Asks where he is so I guess still asleep. Latte has to be one of the strongest I’ve ever had from a Starbucks or anywhere. Will be my only caffeine dose of day I’m sure. As I get old, like with many changes in diet and compulsion, I’m more sensitive to caffeine and don’t need much to start the taxi to runway.
So much music listened to yesterday, from The Doors to Janis Joplin, to LoFi beats, to Mr. Coltrane…. NEED MORE MUSIC. Hip-Hop, Jazz, classic rock, EDM, everything..
Still no fucking sales. Enough in the funnel to make 200% of my quota I’m sure, but everyone disappears, into this funnel Bermuda Triangle. I’m not letting myself frustrate, and you know what Mom’s right.. should just get on a fucking plane, head to Oregon. Can’t bring myself to do it though. Have the thought be part of the 81421 business development. Agreed.
Emmie watching a kids’ show, relaxing on the couch, much deserved after her busy week. Kindergartener. How. She lays there relieved it seem, “stay home day” like she always says in reference to weekends or holidays.
