Thursday, September 23: Week 8

Man, Daddy's draggin'! I haven't done the aerobic training after the quad workout before, and my legs let me know they frowned on the idea. But what an excellent lift today, god, how I love that crazy pump. And I met an angel at Jiffy Lube. Okay, maybe not a "real" angel with harps and wings and everything, but certainly one of those women that remind you why boys like girls. Haven't met such a seraphim since that French girl at the Vegas Denny's. She sat next to me, and after working through her mail a bit, she turned to me and asked if I would mind if she made a cell call, an act of such wanton civility and grace, I almost couldn't respond from the shock. Thank god I was dressed for the gym, so I had that unshaven knuckle-dragging redneck look going for me. We chatted a bit, and I don't think I could have found her words more interesting, she has that nice intellectual arrogance of the gifted student and eyes that fire when she's making her point. And she has a great handshake. I'll probably never see her again, I barely had the presence of mind to find a business card I'd scribbled the web site address on, but she'll be well remembered. Best oil change I've ever had.

Thursday, September 23: Week 8

I took a field trip to see Abe today, I've been feeling a little out of sorts of late, and when I read the Gettysburg address, and his second inaugural it reminds me of the civic and personal pain endured to bind the nation I grew up in. The North and South had different takes on the kind of freedom they wanted, one expansive and visionary, the other a kind of freedom to be stupid. I understand the impulse to both. It was a beautiful day, and I needed the long walk to think, and shake free some cobwebs. Along the way, I noticed that spiders had claimed the space between the top and bottom chains, thick steel links painted jet black, on either side of the boardwalk that runs under the Roosevelt Bridge. Their webs filling the negative space, perfectly designed to capture anything riding the wind. As I moved along the Potomac, I saw Abe's temple across the water, and I started feeling better. Crossing the Memorial Bridge, I stopped to marvel at the Italian sculptures that guard the eastern edge, "Sacrifice" has always blown me away. I'm a sucker for old school equestrian sculpture. There's some crazy construction going on, so I was forced to hug the river for awhile, which wasn't so bad cuz' I took a moment to ponder "Music and Harvest", not as powerful but the horse is awesome. After some indelicate maneuvering through traffic, I came around to the front of the memorial, and was pleased to see there were many visitors. Although I wish they were more "into" it, you're really missing the point if come here to look at the statue (it's not, strictly speaking, the best) and get your picture taken with marble Abe. I think there were only three other people reading the texts, and that's a shame, they'd have a better understanding of why the current political campaign is so retarded. Anyway, after communing with Abe for awhile, I crossed the plaza (it was a street once, now it's a memorial to Osama Bin Laden) and sat on the steps facing the reflecting pool. I pulled out my journal, and wrote the words I wanted to write to myself, reminders about the nature of freedom and why it's evil not to use it. On the way back, and remember this is a bridge I've walked across a zillion times, I noticed for the first time that part of the granite "guard rail" was in fact metal. I looked across to the other side, and saw the same was true there. Then it hit me, this was where the Air Florida flight crashed in 1982, crushing those poor commuters and I'm again reminded that life is short, and that I need to burn like a candle and not flicker like a dying bulb.

Wednesday, September 22: Week 8

Didn't hit my word target for the novel, but it was a good day's writing nonetheless. Kat is well on her way into the full knot of intrigue I've designed, and that makes me pretty happy. I did, however, give myself a truly horrifying shock. I took my "before" pictures (which I was supposed to do at the beginning of week 1, but couldn't figure out how to make the timer on the camera work, in a recent bout of cleaning I stumbled upon the manual and now I'm Johnny Camera), and let me tell ya', I'm really "before". The front and side shots weren't pretty, but not much of a shock given that I'm confronted with that view every time I get out of bed, but jesus effing christ, my back is like some kind of eskimo whale hunter's wet dream. I ain't got love handles, I've got love luggage, with the handles somewhere up around my armpits. So, my days of laissez faire dieting are over, I'm going back and re-read the dietary portion of the workout and get real. I underestimated the value and power of photographic evidence, and I won't be making that mistake again! Now, where's my muumuu?

Tuesday, September 21: Week 8

I'm still pretty pissed at myself, but today was a good one on the novel, and I pulled myself out of a pretty deep funk that made yesterday, in a word, ass. I'm finding this to be the biggest challenge of any creative endeavor I've ever attempted, in scale, and in discipline, and I'm too easily frustrated. This lack of mental toughness is slippery, and takes many guises, most of which take the form of straight time wasting or putting small (usually pleasure oriented) priorities ahead of the hard work of putting one word after the other. Habit is what I'm searching for, a habit that allows me to create good, solid writing consistently and I know it's in me, I just have to gut through this. I've heard authors talk about how hard it is to write a novel, and now I know what they're talking about.

I couldn't stop myself, I had to run to Best Buy to pick up the Star Wars trilogy. Which is truly retarded, given my limited funds, but I worked hard for that cash and I'll waste it if I want to! (Check back here in five months and see how cocky I am about cash then.) Oh well, on that note, I'm gonna' watch "Episode IV, A New Hope" now, so later gator's.

Sunday, September 19: Week 8

Goddamnit, I lost nine days from being cocky, I obviously haven't taken to heart my mission. Distractions have to go. I'm 15,750 words in the hole, and will need to start week two of month two of my workouts, I've lost two weeks. I'm walling myself off from humanity for the next week. I've got to get the truck serviced, and attend my sister's bbq on Saturday. Other than that, I'm Johnny Cloistered. Goddammit! I'm so pissed.

Tuesday, September 14: Week 7

The last three days are a pretty abject example of "the best laid plans oft go awry". By way of illustration, I write this post in the lovely kitchen of my parents, roughly the size of my apartment, because of a dog roughly the size of a toaster. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's begin at the beginning, shall we?

Okay, as mentioned in my previous post, I was a little staggered by the fact that I need to start knocking out 1750 words a day, but was ready for the challenge. I knew I'd lose Saturday to my trip to see my Nephew and his new school, but no biggie, but now it's 7:30 Tuesday morning and I'm 5250 words in the rears and I'm trying to get myself pumped up for a day of crazy productivity, so I figured catching up here would be a good way to unlimber the mental timber.

So, I wake up around 5:00 on Saturday morning, so I can do a light pack for an overnight stay, and generally get my act together for a 6:30 blast off. I had somehow gotten it into my head that Ashburn (where my sisters family lives) was about the same distance as the crow fly's as I am from Newport News, and figured it'd be pretty easy for us to sync up. I was off by about 30 minutes, but it gave me a chance to score a paper at 7-11, and a croissandwich at the "King". Luke, my other local most excellent nephew, is in learners permit mode so has to drive at every possible opportunity, and around here getting time in on 95 is a right of passage. Total drive time to Christopher Newport University (for me at least) was 2.5 hours, which isn't a bad little drive, though my gluteus maximus was delighted when it was over.

Christopher Newport is a pretty little campus, very human scaled with low ground hugging buildings, connected by slowly curving walkways. Josh's dorm was impressive, in that it appeared to be virtually indestructible, with cinder block hallways that could probably be cleaned with a firehose if push came to shove. Josh gave us the tour, showing us important things like where to eat, and less vital areas like where he goes to class. We also checked out the gym, which was the most impressive thing I saw all weekend, I almost enrolled right there just to have access to this valahalla. He's got a pretty good cadre of "boyz" (and "grrrrls", but I didn't get to meet them) from home going there as well, which gives him a good built-in social network. We hit one of the cafeterias for some chow, and I was struck by the high ratio of college kitties on campus, which (although good for Josh and his ilk) twenty years down the road reminded me of how lacking VCU was in this vital college infrastructure. Anyway, we hit the 1:00 pm football game between the home team "Generals", vs. the visiting "Green Terror", who inexplicably appeared to be dressed in yellow. We didn't get a seat, so we clung to the low fence at the south end of the field. Some hecklers to my left were a good example of the fine line between humorous and crude, and were somehow fixated on a player named David Brooks (I think). We met up with Josh's pals Daniel (with parents and brother Ben), Kurt (or is it Curt, damn, I've known that boy since he was born and I don't know) and his mom Claire. We didn't make it through the game, the angle we had wasn't conducive to active watching, and we were getting hungry (well, Josh and me). We checked into the hotel, where the room had that funny moistness that I've only felt in hotels, and we set about the business of finding a restaurant in an unfamiliar city. The "concierge", a strange little man of indeterminate nationality, brought new and vital meaning to useless...so we wound up going to Red Lobster. It was around this time I decided I would head back home after dinner, god knows I've got a lot of writing to do, and I figured I'd get home a little late and be good to go on Sunday. I stuffed myself silly at dinner, silly, and that made for dangerous test of my intestinal controls on the long drive home. Les, Luke and Josh were thinking of heading to the beach in the morning and I'll need to check in with them and see what they wound up doing.

Sunday? Oh brother, another example of my advancing age, I was exhausted from my "big day" and late arrival. My motivation was further compromised by the second coming of Joe Gibbs to football, and the day was far from productive. I also got a call from my mother, asking if I could take care of Casey, the strange little dog who now controls my life. They were going to PA for a golf outing, and hadn't secured care and feeding for the beast. It seemed like a simple enough request, he's a tiny little thing, and wouldn't require much by way of attention. Yeah, sure. They dropped by around 6:00 with their little bundle of joy, who was obviously not amused by the break in his kingly routine. I figured he'd mellow out after he'd had a good night sleep, and perhaps the easter bunny would drop by with some eggs and chocolate. I tried to work, but he kept looking at me, unblinkingly, with a face of tragic sadness and fear...very much like the kids they show on "feed the children" commercials. I couldn't take it, and I'm not sure what's worse, a girly dog that can't deal with change or a new space, or a girly man who cracks under the gaze, and gives in to anthropomorphic empathy. So, Monday afternoon I pack up my computer and now sit in this cavernous kitchen with a happy little dog someplace not staring at me. Well, jeez, this turned into a little mini-novel didn't it? Better take a quick swim and start creating some magic on my other novel!

Friday, September 10: Week 6

Hey, sorry I missed yesterday, but with all the work I did on the manifesto, I was just plain tuckered out.

Speaking of which, since I finally put some metrics to the writing, I see my 750 words a day goal was a little anemic, and today was the first day I held myself to the 1750 goal. It was HARD. And it took for friggin' ever, not all of it productive mind you. I just made myself commit to sit here till I was done. As a result, I missed my workout, and I now know that if I'm at 500 words at 11:00 am, it ain't good. But this is a learning curve, and I noticed that after a lot of fidgeting, the words really came out. Having the artificial number requirement is helping me push through a lot of pretty needless hemming and hawing. I know I'll have to revise the final draft anyway, so I might as well just plow through.

Haven't heard from my sister about the trip tomorrow, which is freaking me out. But she doesn't have a phone, since they recently moved, and I'm at a loss as to how to get through to her. Oh well, hope springs eternal. And I'll probably be posting on Sunday, if anyone is actually reading this.

Wednesday, September 8: Week 6

Tough writing day today, good, but tough. I'm starting to get a real appreciation for why so many people become alkies, go nuts, or just quit altogether, you really have to get a kick out of the tough patches or it would just seem to painful. And I loved today, even though I kept staring at the computer, changing word after word in a given sentence till it rang just right, realizing I wasn't creating a lot of new words, just pushing them around. But, hell, I got more than my quota in today, so I'm still on schedule!

It was a dull wet late summer day, and after my morning workout, I decided to make today my "off" day from lifting instead of tomorrow to force myself through this tough patch of the book. And it was delt day, and I was being a little wussy, but I'll pay for it tomorrow. Well, gotta' call my sister about a road trip to Josh's college, and get out gameplan down.

Tuesday, September 7: Week 6

Awesome day today! Great writing, excellent workouts, can't beat it. My spotty workouts of the past week (partially due to the calf injury, over the weekend, due to being lazy) left me rested and ready for an intense workout, and I loved it. Since I wimped out yesterday, I had to combine the Monday/Tuesday lift, which wasn't that big a leap since half the Monday lift is calf, and that ain't gonna happen soon. I've turned a corner on the novel, I'm out of difficult exposition heavy section, and am now into some of the character development and action pieces. I think this "easy" writing (meaning I've mapped it out better, and have a very good feel for what's coming in the next six-ish chapters) period should last through next week, and hell, maybe till I'm done.

Speaking of my gimpy calf, I was all happy with myself, whistling a snappy tune thinking the thing was fully healed this morning. That is, until I was coming back from my first workout, and sort of found myself in the path of an oncoming vehicle, so I did a little juke (well, athletes "juke", I sort of just lunged) to get out of the way and "doink" there goes the calf again. Not all the way mind you, but enough to make me Johnny Gimpy the rest of the day.

Monday, September 6: Week 6

Look, I'm not going to kid you, these last two days were pretty much useless. Well, useless from a "practical" perspective, but I've been so involved in social activities and recovery from those activities that it's been pretty much a zero sum gain. My friend Teddy and his band Exit 10 rocked Madam's Organ on Saturday, a brilliant coming out party for them and a great time for me and my friends. Had dinner at a lovely little bistro, Cafe Atlantico, and had some of the best food and conversation I've had for some time. Such a pleasure to see old friends, and have the strange comfort of knowing that all is well with them all, and new beginnings paint their horizons.

As mentioned in earlier notes, my scheduling has been more than a little anemic, and this is now a four day work week. I need at least 500 words a day for the book, solid workouts, good diet, and proper sleep and it ain't gonna' happen unless I make it happen. I have been a little distracted by the possibility of the consulting work, working on my mind in funny ways, but the bottom line is I don't want to fall back into that by default. I'm my own boss now, and I need to be a bastard, the staff is just plain lazy!

Saturday, September 4: Week 5

Oh brother, was this a wasted day or what? I'm not a big party boy, and I've got a big night ahead, so I'd best hit the showers. I'm meeting a group of friends for dinner at 7:00 and my friend Teddy and his band Exit 10 are playing in Adams Morgan at 10:00. Now, for all you young people out there, that may sound like a light evening, but you're talkin' to a guy who hits the sack at 10:00. But I spent the bulk of the day reading, cleaning and doing laundry so I should be rested and refreshed.

All the things I did today needed doing, but I missed my workout because I procrastinated at every possible moment today, and that's gotta stop. Scheduling has been a real weak point of the Odyssey, and that has to stop, today. So, after I post this, I'll do a quick "to do" list for tomorrow...and make sure I do it dammit!

Friday, September 3: Week 5

CRIP CRISIS ENDS....sort of.
Ol' Crippy McCrip is back in action...well, maybe not "action" but a good facsimile. Okay, so the calf isn't really "healed" as much as good enough to ambulate without the fear it'll rip like wet paper towels. I was pretty cocky until the mile 1 point in my morning walk to the gym, it felt like I was 100%, but once I started walking downhill it all went to hell. The way it's working itself out, it feels more like a pull than a tear, and I seem to recall from my more athletic days as long as I don't yank it around too much I should be fine in about a week. I'll need to put the calf work to the end of the week, just in case.

I got a random call out of the blue from an old AMS colleague with the possibility of a design / usability gig with a large financial services company, and if it comes through it'll be a great situation, because I'll be able to keep my skills sharp without having to commit to a long engagement. And I like the idea of pumping a little cash into the coffers, but that's probably some kind of catholic thing.

This really turned into a "week off" in a few ways, and I've learned a valuable lesson that I need to up my level of commitment to everything. In a very concrete way, and I need to hold myself to the 500 word minimum I set for myself at the outset of this whole process. Discipline in each facet of my life is required, not in just a few. Physical energy has been an issue of late, and I know it's because of my diet, and yet I still will go for entire days without eating, only to chow down at dinner, it's retarded. So, keep your eyes peeled for a significant change in tenor on Monday, and if you don't see it, be sure to zap me a note to remind me!

Thursday, September 2: Week 5

CRIP CRISIS DAY 3
First off, a shout out to my nephew Josh on his birthday, first one at college! Right on!

Well, I won't be hopping up and down any time soon, but I think I can get back in the gym tomorrow. I've got two days of being sedentary, and though the calf is far from healed, I think I have to risk it now. And let me tell you, three days trapped in this apartment will motivate the hell out of you to get out!

I had a good day on the novel today, as you can see I got a good number of words out, and they're good words too. Also, I've moved out of a scene that's been dogging me for awhile now, and there's a lot more action coming up. Well, not a "lot" of action, but more than the drawing room interrogation I've been in.

I learned a valuable thing today, I can't write with the radio on. Either music or talk, it's kind of a bummer, but the proof is in the pudding. I was much more productive and imaginative during the hours of silence, which is the polar opposite of how I work when doing visual art, or web development for that matter. Live and learn, baby. If I don't fall down, clutching my leg and screaming like a girl, in the gym in the morning I'll be doing my new daily schedule for the first time. This includes art and writing (which I've been unsuccessful with thus far, and I'm convinced it's imperative I do both to grab the most value from this time) so I'm hoping it works out.

Wednesday, September 1: Week 5

CRIP CRISIS DAY 2
Ugh, a day of recovery, how I loath it, this goddamn calf is some kind of punishment for hubris...I just can't figure out which act of hubris...but I'd repent if I knew, seriously. I spent the day drawing, which probably wasn't the best way to rehab, but I couldn't stand the idea of a day in bed. Oh well, whatever, it's not like I'm "seriously" injured...I just can't walk without the sensation that I'm ripping the tissue, and that's more of a training issue than anything else. Just gotta chill and let this thing heal.

"He's infinitely wise, but he infinitely lies", I love that line from Aimee Mann...for some reason I just love music from women pissed off at men for some romantic dissolution or plain dick-weediness. I think it's the mixture of anger and sadness, and the arrogance of knowing that she's sadder and angrier than you'll ever be, so just sit back and take it. Tori Amos can really hit that note too, and it's so "female" (i.e. not male, our reactions to things lean toward the random and tend to be short on the reflective) that it's really a serious insight into an entirely different reality. I mean, would a guy come up with "I should have known you would betray me, but without the kiss"?

Well people, please keep your fingers crossed that I'm at least showing some progress on the healing front tomorrow. Ain't nothing more pathetic than a hobbling big man. I'm truly in a foul humor...may have to watch "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure" to cheer me up.