day one

There have been other “days one” in my history. This one has come up due to recent feelings of impending doom. Since retiring, I have done less and less projects-with-passion. It is very easy to turn on my computer and fanaticize that I am a writer of the next best self-help book on the NYT best seller list. Last week, a friendĀ gave me a copy of his recently published book. In it he referenced St. John of the Cross, claiming he had a major breakthrough in life by reading Dark Night of the Soul.

My gut reaction was that he probably did not read the book; how could he be so far off. He said that John welcomed going to prison so he could have more time to be closer to God. I shuddered. That’s not it at all (I said to me).

Right or wrong, if my friend could have a catharsis, so can I.

My current excuse for not writing every day is that my office conditions are not exactly right. True. Right now the dryer is rumbling right next to me. If John enjoyed going to prison, I should be able to write under any conditions.

Plan: I will write on a regular basis in a[nother] new office in the crawl space.

Rules: Work can occur only on the day after a good day. [expand on this later]

The picture above was taken within minutes of the moment this plan started.


When I was underemployed for about four years, I applied for many jobs. Resumes were sent to just about every company in town. I got so many rejection letters that I joked that I would “paper the wall in my office with them.” It wasn’t a joke; more like cynicism; at least sarcasm.

Today I started going thru the letters as part of my paper reduction actions. Old memories surfaced.

Just before I shifted into a “pity party” I got a grip on my emotions.


rejection letters

I took a picture and threw the whole stack into the Tuesday pickup.