Woke up in a grouchy mood about something that happened yesterday. Someone needling me, my inability to stonewall. I'll stonewall more in 2024, I think, I journal.
Did a 1989 dance workout in the living room, showered with my purple shampoo and a rusty razor, listening to "State of Grace." Had my little veggie bacon, decided on purple yoga pants and my pink sweatshirt, walked to Starbucks. My favorite barista quit and the new one has to ask a couple questions about my order. I sit outside in an egg chair with my holiday drink and text Puhg I need to let it go.
I don't want to be a grouch. I will live fewer than 30-thousand days. Lately I've also been considering how when I let people get to me they absorb so much of my focus and energy. What if people who try to stir me are lonely and need to be important for a brief moment. When I ruminate on it all, I'm only giving them more and more significance in my life. I rip it away.
Focused, I get going on my pitch revisions. I become a machine for an hour, fingers flying on the keys as all my ideas finally exit in a straight line of text. I haven't been able to crack this one for a month. At 10:15 I pack up and rush home to Zoom with AP & co about the newest pod edits. I can tell everyone is tired, but the episodes are in great shape, I think.
At 1 I make my faux chicken broccoli bowl. I know I have to go back to the pitch, but it intimidates me. I watch part of a bootleg video of the Red Tour. I have come to have such high standards of Taylor Swift. She's absolutely magnetic at that concert from 2012, but her dancing is stunted and awkward, she slides up and down notes. It's as though she's been ruthlessly improving for ten years.
Ideally I hope to end my writing at 4 so I can take a walk before my Zoom with S___. But no, I get caught on a few details and finish right at 4:55, attach the doc to my exec before I can second guess. I catch up with my old friend--we're trying to do a call every two months. It's so nice to get a glimpse into her life. At 7 I toss on slacks and my pink collared shirt, run over to Little Doms to meet Lo. We gab for two hours. We don't finish the appetizer bread, so I pick up the loaf and carry it home. Puhg drives her home, and only after she exits the car do I realize I had a note in my phone of topics I forgot address.
I sit on the balcony listening to Folklore, and then I decide to dance to a couple songs since I never did get that walk in. I've realized this year I need to do cardio twice a day to not feel nuts. Around 10:50 I have the leftover bread with goat cheese and a honey crisp apple while Puhg and I watch an episode of Survivor Cambodia. Sweet Potato wakes up and zips all over tarnation.
