Day: February 2, 2020

At some point I got really good with lists. I may not always finish them, but I make enough progress that it feels as though a ton of stuff is getting done. Last year I transitioned to post it notes and that was extremely effective as a visual. I have a jar that is filling up with crumpled up and completed notes. This organizing queue helped me to see what I had going on as opposed to holding it all in my head in gossamer thin lattice. I know i need to get back to the daily list of post it notes. I do not know how I ever got away from it.

Without the lists there are a bunch of things that are just not getting done in my life. I don’t see them physically, so I go play Apex or Clash Royale or contemplate some other fashion of time wasting instead of contemplating the growing pile of responsibility strewn at my feet. I was sitting with a new co-worker the other day and they (only now starting to get used to referring to people by the chosen and expected pronoun of they, but that is another post I suppose) showed me their Asana profile, suggesting I try the software. The stuff costs $500 a year, so I am out. Still, what I saw was a high tech version of my stickies, and I do not need the high tech version. The low tech is more viscerally appealing.

What I do need is to sit down and create an initial list of, well, everything. I need to write it out and break down that list into manageable notes that I can use moving forward. Yeah, that sounds like the plan.

Some Thoughts:

1. I’m calling 49r’s today. I am also skipping the hours of pre-game hype.
2. Why is nobody talking about the fact that Shakira is also singing at halftime?

I’m happy.

That is an important statement. I am happy because of where my life is right now. I have a partner that respects me and the true work of my life (the words) and wants us to experience the world together. She reminds me to step back from the noise and the nonsense and remember the goal. I need that.

I’m happy because I am not dead. I realize that heart attack gets so many black men in their forties, and that terrifies me. I want to see a pulmonologist, but I am scared to ask the doc, as if the ask itself would conjure maladies forth from the void.

I am happy because of the work and the opportunities. I am writing again. I am putting words on the page. I am creating. It hurts–like picking a scab, but the blood of creativity truly does need to flow.

I am happy because my kids are so very happy. I have good times with these boys and I feel as though these moments will help them become better men.

I am happy because my bank account is not entirely empty. It usually is and that sucks, but I am working on it and I am working to be a debt free individual.

I am happy because I have a good life and minimal drama. There is always going to be some basic level of drama and I will revel in the fallout. Part of me likes the living soap opera, but that same part of me wants to fast forward to the conclusion. I want the emotion of such things all bundled up in one small pill that can explode through my senses and clear away the mystery and madness in my mind.

Some Thoughts:

1. Having successfully processed why assholes rent space in my head, it is possible for me now to consider why i dislike parents who are way too swaggy about their kids in sports. That will be a memorable post.
2. My son’s cat is stalking me. Anywhere I am in the house, I turn to look and there she is, massaging her claws.