I’m up earlier than I’d like to be (Nick the cat, puking). Yesterday ended up crashing and burning (at least in terms of productivity). I never got my momentum back after the rejection email. I went back and re-read the post I was writing, but couldn’t quite pick the train of thought back up… (I added a little to it this morning and posted). I didn’t exercise, I didn’t submit new poems, I didn’t apply for any jobs (though I looked).
I should probably be a little less harsh with myself. I made it out to the liquor store, I wrote to my friend Gabe a poet and my former poetry professor Bruce (I’m hoping to get some honest feedback to see if I should continue down this writing path “professionally” or if I should just treat it as a self-help hobby), I went for a long walk, I watched my FB friend Keith Kenny play music for an hour, and I checked in on unemployment (it’s still under review). I suppose productivity is sometimes how you define it (and everyone gets a participation trophy).
I’m up early enough that I should be able to make good use of the day. I’m not sure how that looks just yet: exercise, walk, maybe order groceries, maybe read. I might look in to where I could go for a hike this weekend. I could probably benefit from getting out of the city. Last night as I was walking home, I was crossing the street (with the walk sign) and a car making a left turn intentionally gunned it towards me and slammed on the breaks stopping about 3 feet from my kneecaps. I could see the driver fake screaming and laughing. For a split second I just stood there giving him a stare. As I continued walking I could feel my heart pounding – sometimes I really hate people. Though in that moment, I said to myself I hate this city, and had to mentally walk that back. It’s not quite the city. There is a certain population here that ride around with tinted windows, shiny wheels and loud mufflers. Most of them own mustangs or chargers, drive like jerks, and thrive on macho intimidation. I’ve never seen so many of those cars – they seriously are everywhere. When B and I were out in San Diego, we would joke at the number of Teslas and Athletawear shops – well here in Memphis, it’s Mustangs and Chargers, and I’m not quite sure what else.
Yesterday, I also took all of the poems down from this site. While I suspect I was rejected because the work wasn’t a good fit, I can’t rule out that they found the poems in a google search and considered them to be already published (rookie mistake on my part). Some journals are very clear in stating that they consider any form of electronic distribution to be published, others are clear that a personal blog doesn’t count. I have the benefit of knowing that I don’t have very many readers, so I don’t really consider them to be published, but to be safe, I removed them.
I can’t quite explain the psychology behind the “crutch” of the publish button. It’s as if it’s not real until I hit that button. Until then, the poem or post is just a jumble of thoughts, some words and lines. In fact, I was pretty intentional about using that button – I figured it would force a level of discipline on my writing. In a journal, I have fragments and scratch outs and arrows. In a “published” blog, I have to clean all of that stuff up; I have to attempt passable grammar, and use things like transitional sentences. I should probably change my mindset on this use of the publish button and what is real. I might need different ways to motivate myself. The tiny Buddhist in me would say that they are always real and that the threshold is false (they are as real and valid in my mind as they are on paper as they are on the blog as they are in a literary journal as they are in a book) – yet, the writer, editor, publisher in me sees all of those things as a progression of “real” based entirely on different levels of acceptance. I was thinking a bit about those concepts as I ate lunch yesterday and sulked over being rejected. I asked myself “what if Buddhism is just a failed and lazy man’s attempt to justify no longer trying?” I suppose that’s why monks beg for food and spend their days in meditation – a concept that here in the west would simply be seen as freeloaders. Maybe that’s my book project – Buddhism: The Participation Trophy of Religion.
If I want to get anything done today, I best not go done the philosophical/spiritual path of progress, accomplishment, and fulfillment. Instead, I’ll keep things simple and focus on the life I want vs. the life I have…. 😉 But first, second cup and a few moments in the cool of morning on the balcony.