ch ch ch changes

I'm fed up with being sick. It's only been two days, not even that bad of an illness, and I'm more annoyed with being sick than I ever have been before. Which is strange because I've been sick a lot in my life. I don't remember it ever being this big of a chore to be sick. I want to be doing something. I want to leave the house. To exercise. To read without having to restart each paragraph because I'm not paying attention. I hate it. Right now, my body's saying to me, "Dude, I don't care how sick you are tomorrow. You're gonna get your ass on that treadmill in the morning and do some motherfucking downface dog in the evening." It turns out my body has a bit more attitude than it once did. It may need a timeout.

The day wasn't a complete waste, however. I did get in some pretty decent writing for the book (2.1). I read (and re-read and re-re-read) some more of the Gotham Writers' Workshop book. I also applied for some jobs with the American Cancer Society.

In the past couple of days with this bug, I've watched more daytime TV than I have in a while. I don't know how or why I used to watch so much of it. It's kind of pretty much all complete and absolute crap. . . At least I can say that I've changed this much about myself during this whole experience: I no longer have tolerance for diseases or crap. Hey, it's a start.

I'm grateful for prospective employers who give you a time frame in which to expect a response (20).

Must. . . be. . . creative. . .

According to MSN's astrology page, Tauruses like myself are at an all-time creative high today. Odd coincidence that the first time I check my horoscope in years and it happens to say that today is the perfect time to work on a "long-term creative project" when I have a "long-term creative project" (the book) underway. So I'm gonna write for a bit.

Not now

I'm sick. Mostly just wrote and read today. I looked at some job postings. It looks like the American Cancer Society is hiring in several of the cities around here. They aren't writing jobs, but they are jobs I can do. If I can't get a job as a writer, it would be nice to at least have a job for an organization with an honorable mission. So I'm going to apply with them.

Oh yeah. I found this journal today. I think I may be required by law to submit something to them.

I'm grateful for herbal tea and comfort food (20).

Snow Angels

A lot of people don't know this fact about my mom. Actually, most people probably don't know about it. But every year, about midway through the snow season (also called winter), my mom puts on her winter coat, walks out the back door, flops down in a big fluffy patch of white, and makes a snow angel. In previous years, I've scoffed at her efforts. But this year, when she invited me to come with, I figured, 'why not?' I mean, really, what criticism could anyone possibly have with a twenty-seven-year-old man making snow angels in the backyard with his mother? There's nothing creepy or strange about that. Right? I don't care. It was fun. Cold because I didn't put on any socks. But fun. We laughed for quite a while after because, what a silly thing we just did. How could you not at least giggle a little after something like that?

The rest of the day was good, eventful. For one, I started reading the fiction writing book put out by the Gotham Writer's Workshop (can't remember the name). At this point, it's a good book as far as writing books go. I've read a bunch of writing books/articles already, and this one might end up being somewhere at the top of the list. I'm going to restrain myself here. Whenever I read any of these writing books (even bad ones), I get crazy excited about writing. The good ones really make me think on that deeper level of writing, and the bad ones make me think just as deeply as I build my case against their errors and omissions. So, in short, I wrote a bit today (2.1).

I sent out another resume/cover letter. I'm frustrated but not hopeless. The job will come. Soon.

Treadmill, Yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17)

I don't know if I'm ready to remove number 19 from the list yet or not. I mean, I can cook. I can make food that tastes pretty good. I don't know. I think I'll leave it there for a while. But I'm not going to mention it every time I prepare meal.

I'm tired. I'm not leaving out anything exciting. But trust me. I did indeed do stuff today.

I'm grateful for snowangelmom (20).

my life in song

Today is kind of dreary weatherwise and jobwise. So I'm trying to keep myself active to keep from getting too glum with myself. Lately I've noticed a lot of song lyrics seem to relate to my life as this blog knows it. And I've been thinking that I should maybe include some of them in my post. But by the end of the day when I write here, I tend to have forgotten about whatever song had touched on my life earlier in the day. The following are the lyrics that have seemed relevant to me in the past few weeks.

"When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened,
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon," Colin Hay, 'Waiting for My Real Life to Begin"

"This may hurt a little, but it's something you'll get used to
Relax, slip away," Tool, 'Stinkfist'

"Can you imagine, for a second
doing anything, just 'cos you want to?
Well, that's just what I do
so hooray for me, and fuck you," Bad Religion, 'Hooray for me'

"Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing.
I'm very scared for this world.
I'm very scared for me," R.E.M., 'You Are the Everything'

"But time is not given and time is not taken.
It just sifts through itself," Regina Spektor, 'Buildings'

"And I am a writer, writer of fictions," The Decemberists, 'The Engine Driver'

"I used to be the bright one,
top in my class.
Funny what they give you when you
just learn how to ask," The Dresden Dolls, 'The Perfect Fit'

Ok. I've put you through enough of this for now. From here on out, I'll try to post lyrics like this when they come up instead of in a big chunk.

Bad idea

Ok. So the writing for ten hours thing was a really bad idea. I got about six hours into it and then just couldn't handle anymore. But I'm not too down on myself because I wrote about six or seven pages. So that's a pretty good showing. Mostly the reason I set the ten hour goal was to force myself past that little snag I usually encounter about an hour and a half into a writing session. Once I get a job, I'm going to have to get in as much writing as a can during whatever free time I have. That may mean that I'll have to spend an entire Saturday or Sunday writing. Apparently spending all that time hunched over the keyboard didn't do much for my mood either because my mother told me that I was grumpy today. I hadn't been grumpy like this for a while. But today I was grumpy again. Oh well. We all have our off days.

As for the rest of the list. Treadmill, yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17).

I'm grateful for not having to spend the day in a dark room with a cold cloth on my forehead even though the weather was crappy (20).

tomorrow

Seeing as how I already wrote a pretty big post earlier tonight, I feel unmotivated to write another. So instead I'm going to set up something to work on tomorrow that I can count toward number 27. I didn't write anything for my book today or yesterday. Therefore, my goal is to write either ten (single spaced) pages or to write for ten hours. Maybe both. I haven't done a really long writing session in quite some time. So I figure it will be good for me.

I'm grateful for my nieces and nephews (20).

It's good to be the king

So, I guess that early evening could technically be considered afternoon because it does happen after noon. Sorry. The past two days have been a bit hectic. Looking back on yesterday, it feels as though I'm actually looking back on six distinct days that went as follows:

Day 1: The treadmill

Lately the runs have been feeling better and better. Maybe it's a bit gross, but a sweat-soaked shirt actually feels really good against the skin after running for a while. However, for some reason my time running in place never quite feels as though it's a part of the day during which it happened. It's as if the day doesn't begin until after I've run and had a shower. Maybe it takes that long for me to wake up in the morning. But I don't know. Because we had company in the house for most of today, I haven't had any quality time with the treadmill. I haven't felt completely right all day either and was wondering if there was some connection between the two.

Day 2: Writing about myself

I spent most of yesterday morning writing and editing cover letters (with some advice from my mom) to send out with my resume. I'm not comfortable writing about myself, so the whole trying to sell myself in less than a page is quite daunting for me. Hopefully this blog is going to help with that little issue of mine. When I write fiction, it seems as though the stories that are based more closely to my life get the least kind receptions. The stuff that I completely make up, however, that's what people like. My problem with writing about myself is probably a bit of a confidence issue. I need to work on that.

Day 3: The King on display

So I took one of my cover letters and my new resume back to the professor who had ripped into my old resume. On campus outside the professor's building, a woman in a passing truck waved and smiled at me. The sun was glaring off the window so I couldn't make out anything but the smile and the hair color. The smile was one of recognition: ohmygoodnessitsnicetoseeyou. Of the women that I knew on campus, I can only think of five or six with that color hair (dark brown, almost black) who would recognize me. I'm pretty sure at least half of them were ready to graduate at the same time that I did. So I spent the rest of the walk trying to figure out who that woman was and feeling good that either an old friend or a complete stranger was happy to see me. Maybe a bit pathetic, but it started the ball rolling toward my really good mood.

The whole day, I had been nervous about what this professor would say about my cover letter and new resume. But she had no criticism whatsoever. She said she couldn't think of anything to change in the resume, and the only suggestion she had for the cover letter was a way to get around the whole "To whom it may concern:" travesty. . . So she said that everything looked good and was very encouraging in general. That put me in a great mood. Not only did I still have a bit of a fire going in my belly motivating me to do stuff, but I also replenished my confidence for the whole job search thing. So I sent stuff out to apply for jobs yesterday. Unfortunately, later that evening I got an email bounced back at me because I had mixed up a couple of the letter in the companies email address. But that was easily corrected.

The one position that I'm the most excited about is actually an internship, a paid internship with benefits. The position is with a life insurance company's fund that was set up in an attempt to better it's community. If I were to get that position, I would be responsible for researching organizations for the fund to donate to, and I might also be working on the organization's databases, writing copy, editing and writing articles for the newsletter, building presentations, and more. Even if the internship doesn't turn into a job with that company, it's still an opportunity that I'm excited about.

Day 4: So many children

My sister's family came to town last night. When they come to visit, my brother's family, who lives in town, also comes to visit. With four kids all four years old or younger, the place was a shrieking whirlwind of cuteness and stopdoingthat. For those of you who know my family and realize that when we all gather like that, pizza is likely to happen: fear not. I did not succumb to the temptation of yeasty crusts and gooey cheese and nitrite laden toppings. I was strong.

Day 5: If a couple goes off on their own to get married and then comes back to have a party, do you still call it a reception?

The reason my sister's family came to town yesterday was a party to celebrate the marriage of a good family friend, voiceman. It was very good to see him. He looked good, seemed to be doing good. It was the first time I had met his wife. She seemed amazing, a good fit. At this point, I'm not sure what I should write about the reception. It was fun. There were hijinx. I talked to people. I avoided people. It was a party. Most of all I just wanted to get across how happy I am for voiceman. He deserves all the joy he can get.

Day 6: Halo

So after the reception I went and played Halo with some friends. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I was up until well past two in the morning. But it was a good time. We laughed a lot, said, "You suck!" and "Ha!" and "C'mon!" and "Did you see that!" and. . . Maybe one of these days I'll try to recreate a Halo night. But this day isn't it.

Conclusion

I guess in writing about each part of yesterday, I didn't really explain why each felt like a different day. It's just that each part had a different quality to it, my mind was in so many different states, and I haven't had a day with so many tones in a long, long time.

It's late

I'm so tired right now. I'm going to delay today's post until tomorrow. Probably the afternoon sometime. Sorry to my millions of followers who read this blog first thing in the morning. But I need to get some sleep. I'll catch you up soon though.

I'm grateful for snowmen made from marshmallows (20).

Poser

I'm such a fucking poser. All talk. Bullshit. . . Last night I was all about getting a job nailed down today. And today I started off well. I got my portfolio virtually finished. But then something happened. I stopped doing stuff. . . I mean, I did a little. But nothing toward the job. Nothing substantial. I just let the day fade out. Then in the evening I got this panicked, whatthehelliswrongwithyou, whatareyouwaitingfor kind of fire going in my belly. The fire felt good. I had it when I started this process a few weeks ago. I felt so good for the first couple of weeks. Then that burning started to die off a bit over the past week. I felt it going away, and I didn't know how to get it back. Now it's here again. I need to use it while I can. I found a few more job postings tonight that I need to do something about tomorrow. So if you see me and I don't have a satisfactory response about these jobs, kick me in the ass. Literally or figurativly.

I'm grateful for scented candles (20).

Ash Wednesday

I was considering giving up something for Lent. Then I realized. . . what would I give up? For my headache diet I've already given up chocolate, coffee, cheese, most snack foods, pizza, bacon, Chinese food, chocolate, alcohol, peanut butter, all nuts for that matter, chocolate, citrus fruits, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. . . On this new kick I've given up games on my computer, most TV, and procrastination. I'm not Catholic, so maybe I'm misunderstanding this whole Lent thing, but I've heard that you're supposed to give up something you enjoy. Should I give up writing? Exercising? Playing the guitar? Meditating? Reading? Singing (mostly to myself, but you're free to listen if you happen to be in the area)? Visiting with my family? Breathing? All of those are kind of crucial to my life goals right now. Poker is the only thing I could think of to give up at this point. But I've already cut my poker playing down to a couple of times a week. Also, I have a bit of a love/hate thing going on with poker. So would it be cheating to give up something that I half enjoy, half despise, and only do for maybe two hours a week? I don't know. But that's all I got.

I've been writing a lot lately (2.1). And when I say a lot I'm talking about volume of time not volume of text. I'm having a hard time balancing my need to write with my need to get a job. When I'm working on the book, I'm thinking, "I should be looking at more job postings." When I'm looking, asking, begging for jobs, I'm thinking, "I should be writing another page." I think maybe the job search is a bit more desperate, so I'm going to dedicate tomorrow to sending out more of my resumes, making phone calls, checking job postings, etc., etc., etc. This evening I did find a posting for a copy writer, but it was after business hours and the only contact was a phone number. But tomorrow. . . Crap. . . The procrastinator's mantra. . . the sun'll come out. . . crap. crap. crap. . . I thought I was getting past that bit of me. . .

treadmill, yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17)

I'm grateful for the plank and warrior I (20).

Ladysmith Black Mambazo

Today I had planned on writing a post about the frustrations of the job search, but I just spent two hours with Ladysmith Black Mambazo and just can't bring myself to write anything negative. For those of you who don't know, Ladysmith Black Mambazo is a South African harmony group, perhaps most famous for their contribution to Paul Simon's Graceland album ("Homeless"), a LifeSavers commercial, and one of the more memorable moments on Sesame Street. The show started out tight. Vocally, they were tight throughout the evening. After the first song one of them tells us they sing to spread "peace, love, and harmony." The phrase feels genuine.

During the next song, I notice the singer on the end, by far the youngest of the group. I watch him sing, and he looks like an American teenaged boy forced by his father to do something he really doesn't want to do. The man next to him looks like he could be his father. The program says there are five Shabalalas in the group. He could be the boy's father. I feel sad for both the father and the son because of this scenario I've written in my head. How could the boy not love performing such wonderful music? How could the father not see that the boy hates what he's doing?

Then they start to dance. It's choreographed but not synchronized. They all do the same moves but not together. Some of the audience starts to laugh. Their dances, lots of high kicks and stomps, are silly by American standards and even sillier when the dancers can't even do them together. But soon it becomes clear. They are not trying to dance exactly the same as one another. They may be dancing the same moves, but each member dances the way he wants to dance. Some are more energetic than others, more flexible, more playful. Suddenly we aren't laughing at their silly dances, we're laughing with the group, all of us happy because of the moment. Their dancing is about harmony, all different, but in it together. Now the boy on the end wasn't forced into it. He loves it. You see it in his dance. He kicks higher than any of them. He adds more personal flourishes, fills more dead space, than any of the others. There is a chemistry between the boy and the man next to him. The boy's dancing now seems to be a show for the man, and the man smiles.

Later they sing about South Africa. It's one of the few songs with English lyrics that they sing all night and is about the recent hardships in South Africa and the people's struggle for freedom leading to the recent democratic elections. While singing, the group raises their fists to the air. Their nation has overcome a lot. They are proud of South Africa. And I am proud of South Africa as well. Ladysmith Black Mambazo is infectious. They are proud. I am proud. They laugh. I laugh. They sing. I sing. At one point, they even get a few members of the audience to come up and learn some of their dance moves. The people they get are so game that everyone in the crowd has fun rooting for them as they struggle with the high kicks and low crouches.

The show was good. I want to gush on and on about the experience, about how one of the singers invited us all to come to the World Cup in South Africa in 2010 and said that we wouldn't have to stay in hotels because he was building an addition onto his house so he would have room for all of us. But I'm not sure I'm doing the experience justice. You all should go out and see them if you get the chance. It's way better than how I write it.

I'm grateful for peace, love, and harmony (20).

write

QuickList to start with:

treadmill, yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17)

cooked a tasty dinner (19)

started getting the crib room ready for my nephew (24)

I wrote a lot today (2). It was that hard, slow-going, deliberate writing that is so much better than that easy flowing writing that usually never sees the light of day. For some reason the words that come the hardest to me are far more rewarding than any of my other writing. I think that on my last few projects I had forgotten about the journey. I wrote pages and pages without ever going anywhere. The characters may have done a lot, but they never changed. Nothing ever changed. I wonder if my recent writing from before today was somehow reflective of how I'd been living recently. . . Sorry. Introspection is perhaps best left unwritten. . . This recent project is almost certainly going to be of book length. I've never finished writing a book before. I've started several but never finished any. So here's the first update to an item on the list:

2.1 Finish the book by the end of April.

I'm not sure how realistic this goal is considering all the other stuff I want to get finished. When I get a job I won't have anywhere near the time I have right now, and I may be lucky if I can fit in a page per day. But I need a firm, pressing deadline to keep me on task. How can I ever become a novelist if I never finish writing a novel? So, there it is.

I'm grateful for inspiration (whatever that is) (20).

umm. . . what?

If you want to take all the pressure off your day, you should begin it by listening to Willie Nelson's cover of "Time after Time" because nothing that happens during the rest of the day is likely to top that.

(a little side note: After not really being sure how to handle comments from folks, I've decided I'm going to start responding to them in the comments section. So, if you leave a comment and want to know my response, check there.)

today in reverse

I just finished brushing my teeth. Now that may not sound like something that I can count toward The List, but I've taken the opportunity to make into something for the list. For some reason I walk around when I brush my teeth. Either I weave through the various rooms of the house, or I make a continuous circuit of the three-foot patch of floor that's in front of the sink. It's kind of silly and more than likely annoying as well. So, to work my way up to crossing number 26 from The List, I've vowed to plant myself in front of the sink until I'm done with the whole toothbrushing process.

I did some more yogalates tonight (10, 13, 16, 17). It's really good for me. I think the exercise aspect of it is the least of the ways it's benefited me up to this point. Throughout the workout, Louis Solomon is constantly reminding me to pay attention to the parts of the body that I'm not using and my breathing as well. Your face should be relaxed. You shouldn't be feeling anything in the neck. Keep with the breathing. And so on. Those reminders have actually seeped into the rest of my day. I'll be sitting reading or writing or whatever and realize that I have my jaw clenched or my shoulders raised up to my ears or I'll be holding my breath for no reason whatsoever. Hopefully this new awareness of my body will help me to ease my muscles out of the perpetual flex I seem to put them through by default.

I went through some of my much older papers tonight while trying to make sure I knew what I wanted for my writing portfolio. It was very encouraging for me. In the three years I spent back in college my writing improved a lot. My papers from the earlier classes I took as an English major were miserable. I'm not sure how the professors justified giving me the grades that they gave me on them, actually. But seeing how much I've improved in my writing, I feel optimistic about being able to improve it even more. Also, if I could improve that one aspect of me so much, maybe these other improvements I'm working on aren't so unrealistic either.

I made baked cod with a garlic butter for dinner tonight (19). It was a little bland but edible, and I don't have a headache, so. . .

I finished reading "Hate to be Alone," a short story by Stephen Elliot. It's not a long story, probably not more than 5000 words. But I couldn't finish it in one sitting. It's about (warning, gross oversimplification coming here) a man who has an affair with a sadist who's in an "open" marriage. The course of the affair is brief and brutal. When I read the beginning of the story I felt disgusted and intrigued and annoyed and angry and confused and so many other emotions that I lost track of the story. I still don't know what to make of it. But I've finished it. I think my emotions may be working their way more toward the surface during this whole List journey of mine. I can see that as being both good and bad. . . The story was a swirl of things (sadism in particular) that I've not experienced anything close to, but it still got a flurry of my emotions going. . . Sorry if my little mini-critique here is a bit too reader-response. It's probably my own private revolt against the mostly new-critic/historic (with a little Marx, Freud, and feminism) approach that I was saturated with in school. . . Yeah. I realize there are huge issues with parallelism in that last sentence. I'm not feeling like fixing it right now though.

I went to the grocery store today. That took up a good chunk of the day.

Treadmill (17).

How do people that do stuff have time to do stuff? It seemed like someone stole a little bit of the time from today and hid it somewhere so I couldn't use it. I was doing stuff almost all day, and I didn't get in everything that I wanted to get in. I don't know. I probably just need practice.

I'm grateful for new sheets (20).

day off

Yeah, with the exception of spending some time on the treadmill (17), I didn't really do much toward The List today. This was kind of by design, however, as I felt that if I didn't take it a little easier for a day, I would probably crash some time in the middle of this coming week. Since a lot of the job search things tend to happen during the week, I figured it would be best to just plan on taking a break today. It was nice though. I watched college basketball all day, had dinner with my brother's family, and got together with some folks to play Halo II tonight. As relaxing as the day was, I had the worst (maybe only) headache that I've had since I started this whole self-improvement kick thing. I haven't really had much in the way of headaches in the past couple of weeks during the times when I was active. So I wonder whether I was having this one (which wasn't major, by the way) because I didn't do much today or because my body is unaccustomed to the physical and emotional exertion I've been putting it through lately. When people ask me if the diet I've started is helping me with my headaches, I don't really know what to say. My head has been far better over the last two weeks than I can ever remember it being. But I don't know if that's because of the diet or any or all of the other changes I've been going through lately. I guess it doesn't really matter as long as my head gets better. . . It's late. I had non-list things that I did today and was planning on writing about. But it's late. I'm tired.

I'm grateful for family (20).

good day

At the start of the day I thought that I might tell the story of my red right ankle, but the day was so good to me that I didn't want to waste a post on a story about ruining my socks. The day started off with me on the treadmill (17), running the slowest pace that one could still consider running, and getting interrupted by some very good news about a friend of mine. It's not really my place to tell the news, but it put me in a shiny, happy mood all day. Not long after hearing the news, I got to talk to this good friend on the phone, and that made me shinier and happier.

In this good mood, I set to work on turning the garble of skills and experiences into a respectable resume (12). It actually took quite a bit longer than I had expected. But I feel proud of what I produced. It makes me feel like someone will hire me. Soon.

After finishing the resume, I finished the cleaning of this room (24), which involved removing all of the furniture so I could really clean under the bed and behind the various dressers, bookshelves, and whatnot. It was a slow process but needed to be done. Of course, when I took the bed out of the room I found five cds that I now need to put into those cd books I wrote about before. I had left room in the books for new cds, so it shouldn't be too hard to get these cds in there.

When I moved the chest of drawers from the corner, I found my bokken (a wooden sword) from the Kenjutsu class I took when I was studying Kenpo. The weight of the thing was more comfortable in my hands than I had remembered, and I swung it around as much as I dared in the confines of the space. It brought back a fond memory of mine. We would have our regular Kenpo class for an hour on Saturday mornings and after that the advanced sword group would have an hour session. While they were having that class, another guy from my Kenjutsu class and I would take over a little corner of the room and just drill the material. Over and over. He was a lot more coordinated and flexible than I, but I was the one who was able to keep the moves straight. No, gedan is low. Jodan high. Chudan middle. Over and over. Less than ten minutest into it, our thighs and forearms would be burning, but we kept at it for the whole hour. I remember feeling sweat drip from my nose onto my chest, from my forehead onto my arms. Neither of us really acknowledged it, but we both knew whenever the Si gung looked over at us from in front of the other class. Whether they were meant that way or not, those glances felt like great compliments, and we felt proud. When I think about moments like that, and there were quite a few in my time with that group, I regret having quit. But then when I remember the lost written assignments, the classes that started fifteen minutes late, the collection of testosterone (students and instructors alike) bragging about the glorious bar fights they'd been in, I realize that it was probably for the best that I quit.

Further along in my cleaning I found a picture of my grandfather, who died a little over a year ago. He was the member of my extended family that I felt the closest to. He was so sweet and loving and accepting and understood people better than anyone I've ever met. But I never kept in touch with him. I only ever really had contact with him for about a week every year or two, depending on how long it took for me to go out there or for him and grandmama to come back here. I never talked to him on the phone. The thing was, I knew, I just knew, that he understood why I didn't talk to him much on the phone. It was simple. I was uncomfortable talking to him when he wasn't there in person. I didn't know what words to use with him and couldn't use expressions and actions to fill in the void. I always felt like he knew that and accepted it and wasn't offended. When I was a lot younger and he and grandmama would come to visit, he would walk me over to Dairy Queen or A&W or somewhere with ice cream, and we would just walk and talk and eat ice cream. Later, when he wasn't healthy enough to walk that far, we would have miniature versions of those trips but without the ice cream, walking to the end of the block and back, talking. I don't even remember what we would talk about, but those were such meaningful and pleasant experiences for me that I'll never forget them. Why couldn't I talk to him on the phone though? Today I wanted to call him up and tell him about this latest endeavour of mine, that I'm finally starting to try to do something with my life, that it's hard and exciting and scary, and it feels good. It feels so good. I think he would have been happy about that.

Sorry. I'm kind of a sap today. I could tell you more about stuff from the list. But I think I've taken enough of your time.

I'm grateful for the time we did have (20).

blah

Today was a day when all of my not doing anything for the past year+ caught up to me. I was achy and dragass all day. The insides of my knees ached, so I just walked on the treadmill instead of running. While doing yoga, my body was stiff, and I had a hard time getting much of anything going (damn passive backbends). I did get the content of my resume pretty locked down, and have picked out some pretty good writing samples for my portfolio. Now all I need to do is put it into some sort of presentable form and get a good foundation for a cover letter drafted and I'll be all set (12).

I also went through a cookbook to pick out some more recipes for this new headache diet I'm on (16). It looks like I'm going to have to actually prepare most or all of my meals from here on out. Restaurant meals, frozen dinners, and canned foods tend to be packed full of stuff that I shouldn't be consuming. As a wise man (20) just told me through an email, if I'm able to get into a routine of procrastinating, I should be able to get into other routines, good routines, as well. With this advice in mind, I'm going to try to cook a dinner every night for the next week. Maybe a week isn't long enough to fully establish a new routine, but I think it will be a start toward good habits that will keep me out of the pitfall of having a weak night and ordering pizza or Chinese food because I'm not used to cooking every night.

I started re-reading Strunk and White's The Elements of Style this afternoon. I have to keep studying it because I have so many bad habits that come up when I get lazy with my writing. And, unfortunately for you, dear reader, this blog sees some of my lazier writing. So maybe if I pound myself over the head with the very good style book, my habits will get better, and you, dear reader, won't have to deal with so many sentences starting with "So," and my numerous crimes against the comma.

I was going to write a bit about the movie I saw tonight, “A Silent Forest: The Growing Threat, Genetically Engineered Trees.” But it was kind of heavy material, and my eyelids are already pretty heavy so I don't know if I can lift any more. But you should see it if you get the chance. Or ask me about it. It was one of those movies that had me thinking "really?" a lot. . .

I'm grateful that there are so very many genuinely helpful people out there (20).

better late than never?

Sorry for the lack of a post last night. I know all of you were probably incredibly let down. 'Oh my goodness! No post? How am I going to learn what inanely boring activities kept The King busy yesterday?' So, I apologize. I was occupied last night during the time that I usually post and was tired by the time I was finished. So, I put off (The King what?) this entry until morning. But here it goes. . .

Diet. Treadmill. Yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17).

I actually pulled my desk out from the wall and cleaned behind it for the first time in about two or three years (24). I'm just going to say that it wasn't a pleasant experience and move on.

Also, I met with a past professor (20) of mine to discuss my job search (12). The meeting was both overwhelming and inspiring. On the one hand, she really tore apart my resume. But, on the other hand, it needed to be torn apart. I was apparently selling myself way short. Another unfortunate revelation of the meeting was a confirmation of something I already kind of knew: the job market in this state has dried up. There's only one writing job posted for the state, and I am no where near qualified for it (I believe it requires a Ph.D.). However, I shouldn't have to go far out of state to find a writing job. I should be able to find something in one of the scary-big cities in the bordering states. Overall it was a good meeting for me. The professor complimented me in a fashion that was very encouraging and gave me a lot of good advice.

After the meeting I went home and started working on my resume and portfolio. About an hour into it I got this overwhelmed, panicky kind of feeling that made me want to scream or cry or puke or hit something or run until my legs fall off or take a nap or something. I tried to keep working through it, but I wasn't being especially productive. So I distracted myself by driving over to my grandmother's house and helping her bring in some fire wood. Here is where I actually felt bad about my new headache diet: It was cold out. And, seeing as she is an old lady, my grandmother thought that it was really cold out. I was warm while bringing in the wood because I was keeping myself active, but she wanted to offer me something to warm me up (20). "Can you drink hot chocolate?" "No, sorry. But thank you." "What about tea?" "Nothing with caffeine. Thanks." "What about decaf tea?" "No. Decaffeinating doesn't get rid of all the caffeine and also adds other triggers." Man. I can't even let a little old lady do the things that little old ladies do, like serving their grandchildren hot beverages on cold days. . . Oh well. It'll be worth it if I can start controlling my head. After bringing in the wood, I heard a lot about knitting. I think I followed what she was saying pretty well. But it was kind of like coming in at the middle of a story: even if you think you've filled in all the holes, there's still that nagging feeling that you're probably missing something. But she seemed proud of what she was doing and had done, so I was appropriately impressed.

I'm grateful for the telephone (20). I rely on it nearly every day.

number 27

I've decided to add a new item to the list:

27. Challenge myself.

Today, I pushed myself a bit harder than I have been on the treadmill (17), and I feel good because of it. Actually, I feel tired because of it. But I also feel good, accomplished. It's silly how the littlest things can sometimes seem like accomplishments: I ran an extra half mile today, I finished putting all my cds into books (a 9am to 4pm with a half-hour break accomplishment), and I haven't had a life-interrupting headache in over a week now. While these feats are small, they feel like something. Today, they feel like something.

I liken the feeling to that of putting together a jigsaw puzzle. When I put together a puzzle, I'm proud - "You see that picture? I'm responsible for that. Without me it would just be a thousand random pieces stuffed into a box. I made it into a picture." - even though in the grand scheme of things I realize I've just spent hours of my life rearranging little bits of cardboard to make a picture that I've already seen.

Now back to the addition to the list. I think I have a tendency to settle into doing things at a level that I'm good at or comfortable with. For whatever reason, I haven't really been pushing myself to that next level. So, that's my new goal. To raise the bar. To fall on my ass. To succeed. To accomplish.

Most of today was spent on the cd project, but I did get to do some yogalates (10, 13, 16, 17), and an issue of McSweeney's came in the mail. So I'm going to go read some of that as soon as I'm finished here, see what kind of stories are getting published these days.

I feel as though I'm forgetting to mention something I did toward the list today. But it's not coming.

I'm grateful for Case Logic cd storage books and a sudden lack of clutter (20).

on organizing cds

Fuck it. He was Prince before he made this album. He's Prince now. He's going under p.

so many cds

Today was a little bit of a disappointment. I was planning on meeting with a professor about my job search this afternoon, but she ended up having to leave town. It sounds like I'll be able to meet with her on Wednesday instead. So I guess things could be quite a bit worse. I'm just eager to get going on things. What did I do instead? I cleaned (24). Actually, a lot of the 'cleaning' involved me transferring my cd collection from jewel cases to those books of sleeves. I worked on it for a looooong time and I'm only through e. So, tomorrow should be fun finishing that.

I wrote quite a bit today (2), but it's starting to feel like I've gone in the wrong direction with the main character. So I may have to backtrack or even start over on my most recent project. But I'll look at it again over the next couple of days to see where it stands.

Yeah, it was a boring day from the perspective of anyone else but me. Maybe on days like this I should write about something other than my day and then just do a little list of my accomplishments toward the end. Well, it's not too late to do part of that.

10, 13, 16, 17. treadmill, yogalates, diet

21. I actually sent an email to Piwok yesterday, and she responded today. So that's a start toward getting back in touch with her.

I'm grateful for twinsissy, who today pointed me toward some reviews of the headache book/diet that I'm now on that were very encouraging. It seems this approach worked for a lot of people. I'm also grateful (and hopeful) for whatever this cause is that z-man is going to tell me about (20).

blog update

I've done a little (very little) updating to my blog. First off, I've added all of the new items to The List and made a link to it under the about me section to the right. I've crossed a few items--(1), (3), and (25)--off of the list, as the first one is no longer a goal of mine and I've done the remaining two. If you haven't noticed yet, starting with this post you will be able to hold your cursor over the numbers that appear in parenthesis and a tool tip label will let you know what that particular item on The List is. That's it for now. I'll have a full update later tonight.

the headache diet

So. . . um. . . yeah. . . what happened to today? It started off like normal: bowl of cereal, treadmill (17), shower, toothbrush, floss, deodorant. . . then what happened with the rest of the day? Looking back, it seems like all I did was pick out some recipes that fit into my new diet (16), go to the store to buy things for my new diet, take care of some email, cook dinner (with some guidance from my mom) (19), eat dinner, and yogalatesize (10, 13, 16, 17). That doesn't seem like it should've taken all day. However, when you consider that I can no longer eat most of the foods I am used to eating and that most of the time in the store was spent frowning at labels and cursing MSG for being so savory that every manufacturer insists upon using it in their delectable products, the day could've seemed a lot longer than it did. I don't know if the new diet is going to be helpful for my head or not, but I have been feeling a lot better over the past week than I have in a long, long time. I think the combination of exercise, drive, optimism, and kind words have done wonders for my physical state of being. . . I think I'll cut this post a bit short tonight. I'm tired. I had hoped to do more today, but the stuff that I was doing seemed to get in the way of me doing stuff. . .

I'm grateful for beds and floofy pillows and warm blankets (20).

On not becoming a professional poker player. . .

So today my dad decided to take me to one of the casinos near the lake to check out the poker room. As it turns out, casinos are really really depressing. The place (and every other casino I've ever been to) was dark and smoky, and nobody was smiling. People were sitting at slot machines, collapsing their spines, drooping their shoulders, dumping coin after coin into noise factories, and frowning. Frowning while playing a game. One guy had just hit what seemed like a substantial jackpot on his machine, and he just scooped his winnings into a little plastic cup, scowling the whole while as if hitting such a big payout weren't the reason he sat down to play in the first place. The whole place was just so damned gloomy that my dad and I decided to just get something to eat at the restaurant and leave. By the way, if you don't think I'm serious about eliminating all migraine triggers from my diet, you should know that I told the waitress to hold the gravy (16) on my mashed potatoes. Hold the gravy. If that isn't serious, I just don't know what is.

So, this whole experience at the casino made me give up on the idea of ever really giving poker a serious shot as a profession. Why would I want to spend a lot of time in a place where people are miserable and I'm unable to do anything to cheer them up? I already had other reasons for not wanting to play poker seriously. This last one just pushed me over the top. First off, I wouldn't really want that kind of lifestyle. Crazy hours. No real security. Questionable company. Who needs that? Also, I sometimes have a moral issue with playing poker. If poker is indeed a game that favors players with skill, and if I am indeed a player with skill, is it right for me to use that skill to take money from people who don't have that skill? Isn't that kind of like a scam? I know that bad players know the risk when they sit down at a table. But I'm not sure if they really believe in the risk. I think a bad player probably sits down to a table convinced that something good will come out of the session. Isn't that how con artists work? Don't they take advantage of people's hope for something better. . . But I still enjoy the challenge of poker, the thrill of figuring out an opponent, the agony of not figuring out an opponent. It can be quite rewarding. . . The last of the reasons that I shouldn't be a professional poker player is that it doesn't really create any good or service. Isn't that what money is supposed to be exchanged for? If I win a big pot, what does the loser get in exchange for the money he just gave up? I think maybe I would rather spend my time trying to make something of use than trying to take something of use. . . I'll probably still play from time-to-time. I just won't pretend like I'm doing anything more than playing a game. . . Does this mean I should cross out number 1?

I felt really good after running this morning (17). It reminded me of a stupid little joke I half remember from when I was a kid:

Person 1: Why do you keep hitting yourself with that hammer?
Person 2: Because it will feel so good when I stop.

I know I haven't been back at the running for very long, but it feels like I'm already getting to the point where the run itself isn't as excruciating and the feeling afterwards is pretty amazing. Like I'm powerful, substantial. So I just have to keep that feeling in mind on the days when the running part is a struggle.

10. 13. 16. 17. Yogalates

24. cleaned

I'm grateful for Little Miss Sunshine and all the people who recommended that I see it (20). All the characters are so flawed and beautiful and. . . I should stop before I go spoiling things for anyone who hasn't seen it yet.

moron

I've gone over some of my previous posts, and I realize that the next item on The List should involve working in transitional sentences on this blog. But I've decided against that. Instead, the next item on The List is

26. Stop pacing. It doesn't do anything good for anyone involved.

I finished the big headache book today and started working on The 1-2-3 Program (16). The book was a lot of redundant filler, and the program itself boils down to eliminating "easy fixes (painkillers)," avoiding all foods that are known to be triggers (not just the ones I think are triggers for me), and if that doesn't do it, getting a prescription for preventive medication. So I've started working on steps 1 and 2, and I just have to say, I'm really going to miss chocolate. . . and coffee. . . and peanut butter. . . and bananas and cheese and flavored chips and hot dogs and virtually all frozen dinners and. . . It's going to take some getting used to.

Let me just start this section by telling everyone that I am a moron. A really really big moron. Today I got in touch with some of my professors from when I was in college and asked if they would give me a reference and if they had any suggestions for my job search (12). Well the first response I got was from crazyactivistprofessor (20) who said that he would be more than willing to refer me and also that he doesn't really hear about job opportunities, but he does hear about a lot of internships and that might be a good way to go for me because a lot of internships end up leading to jobs. Which is cool because his internships are usually with the government and non-profit organizations. So that could be a path toward a career that I would actually feel good about. Then, I got a response from coolfriendlyfirstnameprofessor (20), and she said that not only would she let me put her down as someone to call, she would start writing me a letter of reference right away. She also said that she was always getting tons of notices about writing jobs and that I should stop in her office sometime to talk about it. Plus, one of the other professors from the department has lots of good resources for finding even more writing jobs. So that would be cool, because a writing job. . . um. . . I want a writing job. . . heh. . . how's that for writing? . . So how does this make me a moron? Well, if I had gotten in touch with these nice folks as soon as I decided I wasn't going to become certified as a teacher, I would probably have a job right now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am The King. . .

10. 13. 16. 17. two miles treadmill. yogalates

24. clean, clean, clean

2. write, stare at the screen, write, stare at the screen, write, stare, stare, write, stare, write, write

I want to end today by thanking the folks that read this blog, lurkers and commenters alike (20). Sometimes I feel myself starting to burrow into the earth of procrastination and think, "Hey, people are actually taking the time to read your blog. What will you say to them?" So, thanks.

flour storm

I'll start with a quick thanks to z-man (20). I haven't had a chance to go over the html tutorial site all that much, but it seems to be exactly what I'm looking for. Instead of boring you all with some of the more ho-hum details of The List, I'm going to just do a quick driveby of some of the drier stuff and then move on to the meat of today.

2. I wrote for two to three hours today. I also ordered a couple single issues of literary journals so I can become more familiar with the marketplace.

10. 13. 16. 17. two miles on the treadmill. more yogalates (Downward dog? More like downward bitch. That shit is hard.)

24. The cleaning continues.

12. Called about a job.

So, my mom showed me how to make chicken and dumplings today (19). That's one of those foods that just makes me warm and squishy inside because it was one of those big deal meals growing up. "Mom's making dumplings? Sweet! I'm skipping lunch." But the preparation of the meal in this instance was perhaps a bit lacking. Okay, so to make the dumplings, you mix up some flour and salt and pepper in the mixer. Then you add Crisco to the mix. Here's where it gets fun. I dumped the first glob of Crisco into the bowl and it immediately attached itself to the mixer, creating a rotating paddle perfectly designed for spraying flour all over the kitchen. So, my mom steps in and says, "No, you need to turn the mixer down first." So we did that. And then, once the Crisco was blended in, she said we could turn the mixer up again. Poof. More flour. More mess. Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere.

I've made some serious progress in my reading of Heal Your Headache (16). The author, David Bucholz, M.D., claims that everyone is prone to migraine, that what is commonly referred to as a migraine (severe headache with vomiting, dizziness, photophobia, etc.) is an extreme case of what everyone deals with. Bucholz says that we all have a migraine mechanism that, when triggered, causes headaches, dizziness, nausea, stiff necks, bloody noses, sweating, chills, visual disturbances, congestion, inner-ear issues, tension, and so much more. If he's right and his system works, it would be pretty awesome for me because I've suffered quite a few of those symptoms. His system seems to be a long term one. So I'll let you know if it works for me after I've been at it for a while.

I'm grateful for the sweet old lady who lives next door. She always says and does the nicest things (20).

dust, yogalates, & wil wheaton

So, today I had a hard time getting started, but I did eventually get a fair amount done. The day began with me having to stop my time on the treadmill (17) a bit early due to flaming calves. But I did get my new yoga/pilates dvd today, and I gave that a spin (10, 13, 16, 17). It was actually really good for me. Only having done one of the sections on the dvd, I felt an immediate easing of a lot of my tension. So, thanks again piwok.

Most of my endeavours for the day involved the following addition to The List:

24. Clean stuff up.

The literary among you may try to make the fact that I'm cleaning my space into something symbolic of me cleaning my life, but I wish you wouldn't. The dust was pretty bad though. My throat got pretty sore. But it's getting better in here, almost livable.

I want to give a big thanks to IME (20) for pointing me to Wil Wheaton's blog. It's very good. I love his unabashed geekiness and the way he was lobbying for George Tekai to be cast in a broader variety of roles. Speaking of blogs, I need to cross number 3 off the list. But before I can do that, number 25 must be completed as well.

25. Look up HTML tags to update this blog.

I'll finish up with another thing I'm grateful for: chicken noodle soup (20).

The grind

So, I started today with two miles on the treadmill (17). I then wrote for an hour (2) before going out to pass resumes around town (12). I probably stopped at fifteen or twenty places and applied about 7 or 8 of them. A lot of places weren't hiring right now, but some of them said to leave a resume 'just in case.' The big deal for me today, however, was that I submitted a short story to The Southern Review. The whole process - editing, re-editing, writing the cover letter, addressing the envelopes (three of 'em), buying the right sized envelopes, and going to the post office to get the right postage and mail it - was far more involved and time consuming than I would have imagined. I know that editing takes a while, but it probably took me two hours to finish the rest of the stuff. Anyway, I felt good about the story the whole time I was preparing to send it out, and then the minute I handed it over to the nice woman at the post office, I almost wanted to ask for it back because I had a flash of insecurity that lasted until I got outside the building. It'll be two months before I get a response. So. Yeah. That should be a fun wait. I'm tired right now. I did more stuff today, some of which will receive a new item on the list soon, but nothing that is likely to be interesting for anyone to read about. I should get to sleep so I can get up early again tomorrow.

I'm grateful for the friendly strangers I met today (20).

Day one

Ok, so today started with a two-hour drive stretched into a two-and-a-half-hour drive by the slippery roads that sent at least twenty cars to a resting spot in the snow banks just beyond the shoulders. At first, due to my sleepiness and unease from the trip, I didn't accomplish much of anything after the drive. However, after a very brief nap I awoke with this almost panicked need to be doing something. So I got up, took a shower, and went out to get some clothes for job hunting (12), only to realize that the options for purchasing respectable men's clothing are quite limited in this town. I did manage to find a few shirts that were decent enough. Next, I got my haircut, as I had grown far more shaggy than a fine, upstanding individual like myself should be. I also bought a new set of guitar strings--which I later put on my guitar--while I was out, which doesn't quite handle number 14, but it is intended to lead up to it. I fixed dinner tonight--stew with biscuits (19). For those of you that don't know, if you're boiling something with a lid on the pot, water will collect on the underside of the lid. I knew this beforehand. I swear. But a belly stained with stew sweat seems to indicate otherwise.

I received my first two comments today. Both of which helped me to achieve number 20 on The List. Piwok (a very clever name for someone who has spent some time in the Jedi Forest) recommended a dvd that would help me with 10, 13, 16, and 17. Not being one to put things off anymore, I ordered it right away, and it's due to arrive on Wednesday. So, I maybe haven't gotten to the point of crossing anything off the list yet, but I have gotten starts for a bunch of them. Also, I made the call to officially pass on the apartment I had lined up because it was far too expensive and I don't want to be bumming half the rent from my parents every month. I know that seems to contradict item number 8, but my new plan has me very briefly postponing number 8. The plan is as follows:

Tomorrow, I litter my resume around this town at anyplace that will take it. Then, once I have a job here, I will start sending out my resume to employers in some of the larger cities that I am interested in living in. If after two weeks of vigorous applying I have not found a job in another city, I will start looking for a place in this area with a month-to-month lease. That way, when I get that big-city job, I won't be tied up by a one-year lease in this town.

I've also added a few new items to the list.

21. Get back in touch with Piwok. She's probably the oldest friend I have, and it's ridiculous that I've lost touch with her.

22. Eliminate mindless distractions. I've already started on this one by removing quite a few games and other distractions from my computer. I've also vowed to limit my tv watching to four specific shows.

23. Start performing again. Today, while stringing my guitar, I actually began to miss it.

Alright, I know it doesn't sound like much. But it's a start. And I'm actually quite optimistic about my new employment/housing plan. It seems like a better way to go than entering into a lease I probably wouldn't be able to afford even if I did have a job. . . The night is still a bit early, and I plan on working on number 2 by writing a bit tonight and number 16 by starting to read the book "Heal Your Headache." Anyway, sorry if this post wasn't as interesting as the previous. Hopefully tomorrow should be more interesting.

The List

I just got my ass kicked. The funny thing is that earlier in the day I had told this person who means so much to me that I needed my ass kicked, and just a few hours ago she obliged. She kicked my ass hard and fast and over and over. Then she consoled me before kicking my ass again. Built me up. Kicked my ass. Built. Kicked. Built. Kicked. At the time, I couldn't really digest what was happening, but I did have a feeling that it was something important, something that required a swift and harsh response. But I had none. I was impotent. I was everything the ass-kicker had said multiplied by everything she didn't have to say. Every assertion that she made about my lack of drive was reinforced by my inability to convince her otherwise. She had me pegged, and I knew it. I gave in because she was right. I gave in because I always give in and wait. She was right. I have done nothing with my life. I sit and think to myself, "Tomorrow I will be the writer, the poker player, the black belt, the lover, the provider, the person that I really want to be." Then tomorrow comes, and I think "Well, I waited yesterday, and my life's no worse off. Maybe it won't be so bad to wait another day." But I was wrong. Each day wasted has lessened my quality of life. The change was so little that I didn't notice it while it was happening, but years upon years of days chipping away at who I am, who I'm trying to become, have left me just a splinter of what I hoped I would be at the age of 27. She suggested I make a list of goals and what have you, and I didn't take her seriously at the time. Then, less than an hour ago, my sister was talking me through the situation, and out of nowhere I said, "I want to go to Vegas, play poker. I'm good at it. I play online, and I'm good at it. But I've never played in person." I continued to list things that I want to do with my life, and my sister ran into the other room, got a pen and some paper, and said, "Write this down. You should make a list." Shit. Within a matter of hours, two women who mean a great deal to me, both told me I needed to make a fucking list. So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm starting this blog as a part of that list and also to announce my intentions to the world. Below, you will find said list. In the coming days, weeks, months, and years, I will work toward every goal on this list. Every day I will do something major towards achieving at least one of these goals. As I plan to stop being static, this list, too, shall be dynamic. If I think of something new I would like to accomplish, I will put it on the list. I will fill this blog with updates on my progress. My hope is that by putting this out there where friends, family, and strangers can see it, I am somehow imposing accountability upon my quest. If I bring other people into this pact, it will be harder for me to break it. So feel free to leave a comment to build me up a little or kick my ass a lot. Or, tell people about this blog. Ask them to read it for my sake. The more people in on a pact, the stronger it becomes. Now that I've taken care of this preamble to the rest of my life, I'll move on to the list. But first I want to thank both my sister and the ass-kicker. I love you both a great deal, and you each may have given me exactly what I needed. Now, here it is:

THE LIST

1. Play poker seriously. Go to Vegas, the casino in the city down the road, anywhere, see if I really could be as good as I think.

2. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Until I'm finished writing. Then publish. I love to write. Why don't I do it more often?

3. Start a blog. I love reading blogs. I love to write. I should write a blog.

4. Learn to kiss. It's embarrassing how deep into my life I am without ever having learned to kiss.

5. Learn to swim. It's embarrassing how deep into my life I am without ever having learned to swim.

6. Earn a black belt. I've always wanted to be a black belt, ever since I saw The Karate Kid.

7. Have kids. Kids are good. Family is good.

8. Move out. I'm 27 and living with my parents again.

9. Get involved in a cause. There are so many things that I care about (the environment, education, human rights, etc.), and I do nothing to improve them.

10. Learn Yoga. I'm too stressed out.

11. Travel. I want to go places, to see the things that people see.

12. Pay the bills. I need to find a job that will pay the bills until my writing or poker-playing start paying the rent.

13. Fix my nerves. I'm too stressed out. I should try to be less stressed out.

14. Write a song and sing it at an open mic night. I have the start of so many songs that never get finished because I know I'll never sing them for anyone.

15. Convince her. It may be too late, but I will try.

16. Fix my head. Too many headaches are taking up too much of my life.

17. Exercise. This will probably help both the nerves and the headaches. Plus, it will help me to look good when I go topless to learn how to swim.

18. Get friends of my own. Most of my friends are either family or somehow connected to family.

19. Learn to cook. Everyone should probably know how to cook.

20. Be grateful everyday. Thinking about all the good things in life should help me to press on.

21. Get back in touch with Piwok. She's probably the oldest friend I have, and it's ridiculous that I've lost touch with her. (Feb. 5 2007)

22. Eliminate mindless distractions. I've already started on this one by removing quite a few games and other distractions from my computer. I've also vowed to limit my tv watching to four specific shows. (Feb. 5 2007)

23. Start performing again. Today, while stringing my guitar, I actually began to miss it. (Feb. 5 2007)

24. Clean stuff up. (Feb. 7 2007)

25. Look up HTML tags to update this blog. (Feb. 7 2007)

26. Stop pacing. It doesn't do anything good for anyone involved. (Feb. 9 2007)

27. Challenge myself. (Feb. 13 2007)