Found a bit of rhythm to start the year with the writing. Thank god.
I really, really didn’t want to write this morning…but I did it anyway. And it wasn’t actually that hard. I knew where I’d left off. I knew what I wanted to tackle next. I just had to get my ass out of bed to do it. And once I did that? Easy.
Rhythm.
Had to work extra today on the old Netflix stuff. Hopefully I set myself up for success tomorrow, though. We’ll see.
That was my day, y’all. Writing and Netflix work. This next book is fun so far. Hopefully that continues. Oh! I did client work today, too. Nailing down the structure of a story is really, really good stuff. I’m am so, so glad I’m doing the client work because it’s made my own grasp of that stuff so much stronger.
The thing I did not get to do today was paint. Blech. Stalled out ever so slightly on that project. But, tomorrow, I’m back at it. Hurt my arm a little bit yesterday, too, doing the back and forth motions to sand before we paint the next section. So, the back and forth/twisty motion in my left arm is painful at the moment. Sigh.
It’s getting older. Not that I’m old yet, because that’s still a little ways off…but I am getting older. Tendons are little more stiff. Muscles tear a little easier. I try to move like I always have, and it tweaks something. I’m going to be forty next year. That’s hard to fathom, to be honest with you. I barely got used to being in my 30s. I still feel in so many ways that I’m still in my 20s…
Not all the ways, though. I have definitely moved on from a bunch of dead-end shit that I was doing in my 20s. I guess what I’ve been living for the last…oh, seven/eight years or so is the life I wish I’d been living in my 20s. The kind of stuff that makes us old people say shit like “youth is wasted on the young.” But, you know, that’s what the 20s are for. To learn that stuff. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Last thought tonight: I read an article about Anthony Bourdain and how he used to post anonymously to this Brazilian Jiu Jistu thread on Reddit. They showed a bunch of his entries, and it’s so obviously his writing. Such a clear voice, sense of humor, style and cadence. I could hear his voice in just those little entries about how much he loved it. Getting his ass kicked. Sweating. Hurting. But, improving little by little every day. People figured out it was him well before his widow ever confirmed it. They could tell just from his writing style.
Miss that guy.