the light bulb is going to go off. 

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I look at the empty space in my room where my mat used to lay. the carpet there still holds its shadowed outline, but only because I haven’t taken the time to vacuum in here. It’s been too long since I’ve had a private practice; I really need to check in. 

My diet has been better, though my cheat days have become more frequent and I feel even more shame for them because I know what those sugary, fatty ingredients are doing to my body. I need to find consistency. 

I’m not quite sure why, but since my cleanse, I’ve been super introverted. I can’t imagine that my fits with insomnia have helped – I’ve tried to grip sleep and sanity during the week because of my awesome new job, but those luxuries escape me once the weekend arrives. I didn’t even realize it’s been nearly a month since I’ve written, which is completely abnormal for me. This thing is pretty much my diary, I have no idea where my thoughts have been going. 

I don’t particularly see anything wrong with flowing in between states of social or anti, but I took it to the extreme by nearly – okay, let’s call it avoiding – going anywhere, seeing anyone. Though I may claim to be equal parts introvert/extrovert, I teeter  on either extreme on any given day. 

I’m not sure why I’ve been reclusive, I’m still working that out. that’s as honest as I can get about it without really breaking shit down here, and I haven’t had coffee yet. I can feel the light bulb about to go off….or may burst. 

during my period of introversion, I began writing a new book – a story completely separate from The Anchor and The Bridge, though I am still actively pursuing representation for my first novel. I also got hooked on Breaking Bad, which I finally finished and DAMN. If that isn’t exemplary of stellar writing, acting and production, I’ve obviously never seen it. 

I want to have breakfast with Bryan Cranston. His voice makes me so thirsty for coffee I doubt I’d even have to drink any to feel satisfied. 

This story, the new one, is next-level different from the fluffy southern love story that is The Anchor, this book – the one that had a working title, then a different one, and now none – may just be that book for me. There’s a certain magic it to it when I’m writing. I set the story in New Orleans so I could recount so many specific moments and memories, and that really fares well for the kind of story this will end up being. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I feel the same way about my first ever book, but this is unique in the sense that I am an inexperienced science fiction reader writing semi-young adult sci-fi. Challenge was self-inflicted and accepted. 
For a time now, and I’m not sure where I heard it, but I’ve abided largely by the idea that, “you must relinquish control to gain it.” I haven’t always been clear on what that means exactly. do we just completely let go and assume that the universe is going to do right by us if we play by her rules? Or does this mean, after a summer of sitting hidden, that it’s time to emerge from crisp grey sheets and say, “Hold up, I’m here. I’ve got this!” 

I’m going to assume that that’s the direction I’m supposed to take. 

This is me, starting today, assuming control of every minute of every day of my life. I’m going to get up and greet the day with gratitude and immediately celebrate on my mat. I’m going to nourish my body with water and whole foods; really show gratitude for a body that works so hard to serve me. Working tirelessly at my new job will be easy, but I’m going to give it an extra 110% because I’m capable of that. I’m making the promise here and now to not rush the writing of this new book…new beginnings deserve nurturing. 

The above sounds like a pretty decent list of things for me to do while I wait for the light bulb to go off. 

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