A new race has begun

New month. New chance to have more pages in my journal than last year. I’ve got seven electronic Septembers to look at.  I’ve not got the foggiest notion of what happened to year 2011. It just disappeared. Lots of things have disappeared or perhaps they have migrated in my moving things around. It’s like chess around here, though Checkers is more my speed. Clear out a room by moving everything into other rooms. The passageway between the playroom and my room is single-file narrow. I’ve managed to cause two slides of stuff stuffed into a box.

My goal has been to get my office and the playroom not only workable, but to be magical spaces that can support my imagination to go wild when I write and to wipe away the hardest substitute days that I’m sure will come up. I like miracles, but I don’t see that one happening in the near future. Maybe I should steer clear of secondary education subbing jobs.

The numbers for all of the Septembers page count are all over the map for the past eight years. Maybe one of these days I’ll learn how to throw in a table in the middle of the text, but I’ll have to resort to write the stories of the last seven Septembers. I seldom do this, so I’m in for some surprises I suspect.

Last year’s 212 pages are going to give me a slight challenge in how many pages I can crank out. Not really. I’ve been regularly spitting out three hundred page documents. That’s why I no longer print, but I am getting better at backing up. The past few Septembers have plenty of pages. September 2013 has 179 pages. Makes me want to puff my chest out with some pride. Getting the pages and the routine down has been a grind. And even though most of  what I write is garbage, all of these pages of writing has been worth it.

The numbers dive and stay down for the five years I was at the military school. Something had to drop from my regimen and that was it. I wonder if I would have been able to hold onto that job a lot longer if I had journaled every day. Instead of getting it out, I did Type A personality stuff and keep most of my gruntles to myself. Five years is a long time, and I think Sylvia bored of my complained just after a year or two.

I thought about going back to the very beginning of my recorded my Septembers, but I can’t find the very thin and very worn spirals. Maybe just going back a year will be enough. For my ADD and ADHD friends, I will try to keep the count to a thousand word. I’ve got no idea where this blog is going to take me. The Red Sox and Yankee game doesn’t come on for another half an hour. I’m already a third way done…

Last and this September could be twins. The Red Sox were horrible last year. They are better than last year, especially in the recent, but last place is last place.

And then the slide happened. In 2008, I had an amazing 136 page month, but the next four years can’t beat 2008’s length combined. Numbers such as 17, 19, the missing 2011, and 2012 rounds the span with 24 pages. Writing was not my thing for three Septembers. I’d be tempted to bet that Septembers for my journal is shorter than other months on a regular basis. There’s something about the change of seasons that cause me to have this thought. I’m not one for changes, but when it comes to time and change, going for the ride is all that I can do sometimes.

This was supposed to be yesterday’s blog, but I ran out of steam. Maybe my friend Bex is right in her observation that by my having a goal of blogging every day may be a reasonable goal now, but once school resumes, that’s going to be a harder stretch.

I thought about reducing that goal to just writing every day. Between emails, my journal and blogs, I don’t have any problem with this; the routine is set. Perhaps I should work on knowing when  a blog needs to be put on the back burner and another one created. It wouldn’t have taken much at all to just create a blog of yesterday’s walk. I’m always taking pictures, I’m always seeing something new. Why do I have to make blogging so hard? I really wanted to analyze the seven years of Septembers. I didn’t even manage to finish re-reading last year’s September. There’s a lot of words to sift through to find a strand that’s worth writing about.

September is about change and I’m not a big fan of changes. Yet, I’m also not a big fan of doing the same thing over and over in a routine. This is a mismatch of my inner characteristics.

I imagine that by my having a steady routine, reliable activities and actions that will help me deal with the changes all around me, and while working with the Life Coach, I’m feeling the difference.

As I stated in a previous journal, there are ten things that I’m aiming to that will support me to have an amazing day, an amazing life, a Hell Yes kind of life. Life a bucking bronco, I’ve been fighting some of the things on my list. Getting up at eight o’clock fell off the list quickly. I managed to get up at eight two out of the first fourteen days of the experiment. I have only until next Monday to sleep until ten. Once school starts, getting up at six will be the norm.

My intention is to do the things that will make my body happy and functioning. It is a struggle to drink 64 ounces of water every day. It’s not hard to do, but just remembering to do it is the trick. Eating, especially first thing in the morning, has been a focus. I don’t know why my body isn’t telling me I’m hungry until afternoon. Maybe not eating until two isn’t a big deal. The jury is out on that.

Looks like I’m over my thousand word promise, so I’ll end here.

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2 Comments

  1. Are you really sure you SHOULD be drinking 64 ounces of water a day? I read an article not long ago saying that was way too much and that it puts extra stress on the kidneys. And that a body does not NEED that much water and that all the yuppies of the world who can’t go anywhere without that bottle of water attached to their hand are doing themselves more harm than good.

    I don’t drink enough water myself, I know that… but I also think you can drink too much.

    Getting up will be tough for you, especially the first week. I’ve gotten so spoiled being retired that getting up before 8 is just obscene to me, by 9 feels just about right, and I’ve only slept in til 10 once – 8 feels about right.

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