All my life (and yours as well), I've heard how women have it so much worse than men in every aspect of living, from having to wear makeup to difficulty hailing a cab. But I was shaving my moustache last night, and to get the area right above my lip, I have to open my mouth, and sometimes when I do that . . . all the shaved-off hair goes into my mouth. Just saying.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In November: 2798
This is Thanksgiving week, and a lot of people have been taking to social media to express their gratitude for stuff. So I went ahead and created a Twitter account and each day, I’m trying to post something positive there. Because of a certain someone, I pretty much only associate Twitter with negativity and lies, but I know that some folks—decent folks—seem to love it. If I can use it for jokes and thanksgiving, well, maybe I contribute to the solution rather than the problem.
I’m now in the library, sitting in a seat I’ve not been at before, and really surprised by how good this keyboard is. I always come upstairs, which is the Quiet Floor, where you’re not supposed to talk or let your cellphone ring or even fart particularly loudly (the sign on the wall proclaims, “Please, silent but deadly only!”), but the keyboards at the library computers are those old, hard plastic clackers that make a ton of noise, especially when I’m typing away like crazy. This one, though, is a practically silent one, very compact, with keys that feel more rubbery than plasticky. I’m going to ask for this cubicle specifically, from now on.
Last time I was here (at least I think it was last time), I was in a very down, depressed mood, if not necessarily wishing for death . . . well, leaving the door ajar for it.
Today is better, although I still feel that despair hanging out at the fringes of the room, looking in on me like my own nefarious Secret Service agents. I wonder if, like an outgoing President, they will be following me around for the rest of my life.
If so, that’s a bummer. I’d like to believe that one day a magical switch will be flipped and—CLICK!—I will just be able to go to a mall, or a grocery store, or a library like this one, and just be happy and unconcerned about it. But like Elton John said, “I’m sleeping with myself tonight; Saved in time, thank God my music’s still alive.” Which doesn’t really apply to me at all, but I’m going to go ahead and apply it to my writing, now less than a week shy of three hundred days in a row. In my writing, I can be powerful, or funny, or loved, or brave, or cool, or surround myself with people who are. I can craft stories that, at least for me, entertain or amuse or scare or, if I’m lucky, move. And that seems worth doing, regardless of what my old man thought.
So, I’ve got about an hour to write some words, craft something of quality.
I ended up finishing the scene where Will and his uncle and best friend complete their first lost and found mission. I don’t know if it’s any good, but it’s fun to write this group.
Something that made me laugh the other day was Seth Meyers on his show gave this little gem: "In a recent survey, 86% of pet owners said that their animal's companionship has helped them through the pandemic. The other 14% . . . have a cat."
Words Today: 1585
Words In November: 22,413
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