so i've been trying to think of all the stuff i used to do that made me happy.
writing was one of them.
i thought i could force myself to try and write one entry here a day.
not sure how i feel about forced entry.
anne lamott (my writing idol) says that she forces herself to sit and write for at least an hour a day.
bird by bird.
shitty first drafts.
the stuff i encounter daily must have some merit for writing about.
today is a bad example.
i've had a fight with my girlfriend.
it's all consuming.
it's probably my fault.
my brain doesn't control my mouth.
[it should, right?]
the second shit comes out i try to fold it back up and return it to it's place.
[which should be my brain, right?]
the hole closes very fast only to create a new one of a different shape so it doesn't fit back in properly.
my experience with this is so limited.
it's an excellent learning experience.
truth seems to be the best way to go.
but it almost always get me in some kind of trouble.
i've verbalized my lack of thoughtful delivery.
[i'm working on it! i really am.]
we can only learn from our mistakes and move forward.
which is what i will do today.
7 years ago