So, I realize now, sitting down on the new little powerhouse laptop that just happens to be rose gold to write today’s post, that there’s a theme today. A subtext that I have only just now read.
It’s try harder.
It comes from watching that screwy-eyed press berater at the White House yet again castigating the press for wanting more than to happily swallow what they know, having tested it, to be shit. And finally, today, someone said stop fucking berating us. Do better, try harder, we deserve more.
Then, of course, I was at a course to learn how to be an exceptional version of what it is that I do. It was interesting. I both felt that I learned things and nothing at all at the same time – you really had to sluice your pan to pull out those few nuggets of unheard, life-altering information. The rest was just platitudes and quotations. The instructor was very nice and I, for my part, enjoyed having a day of non-work work to remind me that there is an exterior sort of life to hang onto. We did talk about having larger plans for ourselves. The question was posed, where do you want to be in 5 years and I piped up, clear as a bell, a full-time writer.
Huh. I don’t know, I don’t know specifically how to make that happen, but it is curious to me that it jumped so readily from my lips that maybe I have to find a way to take another look and break that down into all its littlest, tiniest pieces and work on the crumbs.
So I sit here, thinking about my day and the way it went and the impulse I have to just play a game and go to sleep, and I realize, that if I want more out of myself, a different result, I have to re-engage with the efforts on the table. A big effort is to write this journal of my life. To not let it slip away into nothingness because I released this ideological clamp that had been set on the project. That was meant to relieve the pressure behind it, but I didn’t realize that the pressure came hand and hand with the desire.
J. wrote me today. Wrote without provocation on my part, which always comes as something of a relief, just to be allowed to recall that this is a two-way street and that you’re not goading a boulder up the side of a mountain. He wants to be here. I know that because he asks to talk to me and that little flicker of kindness and protectiveness lights in front of my eyes. That’s energizing. He sent me a list of links to help set up the new laptop and they’ve worked swimmingly. I feel so grateful that he took the time, even feeling subpar. He says, jokingly, putting on an accent for effect, “You don’t gotta worry about nothin.'” And I trust him and things worked and trying, harder, just for that minute, to keep it aloft, oh, felt so good.