September 1st – September 15th, 2017
Do you ever have bad days, he asks. I don’t think I do. Not really. I dated a nurse several years ago. Intensive care. She saw people die every day, traumatically, sometimes beneath her chest compressions. She’d come home and ask how my day was. Terrible. Fucking internet wasn’t working. That’s still about as bad as it gets.
Grabbed a rental car this morning, drove across the island, stopped off at a sports store to buy a towel, three tennis balls and a pair of cycling gloves. Then coffee at Playa de Las Teresitas, read Ambrose Bierce for a bit with my toes in the sand. Later some Ido-inspired movement on the beach, trying not to be self-conscious, and a little swim practice to finish.
All three roommates checked out of the coliving this weekend, leaving me by my lonesome. Now it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m dangerously close to spending the day Netflix bingeing on the couch, when a new guy checks in and we chat for a couple of hours and I’m buzzing after and decide to go get some shit done at the coworking. This is why it’s better for me not to live alone.
Set up a Patreon account and announced it to my email subscribers today. Would be nice to bring in a bit of money that way each month. I support Sam Harris’s podcast on there myself, also give a little something each month to the Love & Courage podcast. It’s important methinks, to support work you enjoy and want to see more of in the world.
Been hitting the work stuff hard the past few days. Set a goal with my mastermind buddy that I’ll send at least 250 outreach emails before October hits, and before I can even start that I need to create a couple of juicy content pieces. If I fall short of the mark, I’m on the hook for a $1k penalty. Pushing hard to get the bulk done before my lady gets here next week.
There are a few things I only learned were “Irish” after leaving Ireland. Examples: green beer; The Boondock Saints; spelling Paddy with two T’s; coal wrapped in tissue paper on NYE. Also, the concept of an “Irish goodbye.” Never heard anybody mention that in Ireland. It’s when you’re out for the night with a group of people and then you just leave without telling anyone. Like I did tonight.
How do you improve your ability to focus? You practice. No different to anything else. Except there are all sorts of obstacles to practicing focus. We’re living in the age of distraction, constantly training our brains to look for novel stimuli. Every time your phone beeps you stop to check it. Every time you wait in line you’re scrolling through your Facebook feed. That’s you practicing distraction, the exact opposite of focus.
Reading a book about bees. Fascinating creatures. It’s the females that do all the work apparently. The males (drones) don’t even live in the hive as adults. They hang around outside, waiting for the queen to emerge so they can get jiggy with her. Unfortunately, for a male bee getting jigging entails putting his penis in the queen’s “sting chamber.” She then rips it off and he dies. Royally fucked.
Listening to a podcast about climate change. That’s one of those things we should all be outraged by… but aren’t. More people are probably outraged by Game Of Thrones spoilers on Facebook. Come to think of it… actually, never mind. A cockroach just dropped from the ceiling onto my chest and now nothing else matters.
Critical comment. Heart starts beating faster, and I feel that impulse to defend myself and attack the critic, to prove him wrong and me right. I feel all that, but I’m able now to recognize it and step back for a minute. Take a breath. Okay, what’s a better way to respond? I can ask questions, try to clarify and understand where he’s coming from. Or I can just ignore him.
Podcast time, almost 2.5 hours chatting with the Cuz about faith. What happens after we die? Is praying for someone a waste of time? Are some religions better than others? This was our ninth episode, and more than ever I felt we forgot about the audience and talked like we would in private. I’d be surprised if anyone listens to the whole thing, but then I’m surprised anyone reads these Momentos and hundreds of people apparently do.
Wondering if I have a block when it comes to money. I get regular offers for sponsored posts on my site, and thus far I’ve always declined. I tell myself it’s to keep my corner of the Internet pure, and only promote stuff I’d be recommending anyway. But I see others making a killing off sponsored posts. It’s often their primary business model, and that income gives them the freedom to do some great things.
Fourth rental car in three weeks, headed back to the south of the island, sun setting beyond coastline to my right, a mighty volcano to my left. Got a lot of work done these past three weeks, had a good routine going. The next couple of weeks won’t be so work-focused, with my lady here and a camp about to begin and death on the doorstep back home.
Wolfhouse for the first day of Remote Workers Camp. Morning time on a slack line moving like a monkey, then surrounded by good people running down dreams, airport trip with thirteen white roses to pick up la señorita especial, crushed an evening client call, social warm fuzzy dinner by the pool, prep for tomorrow talk, night time all snuggled up. Perfect ten this one.
Knew it was coming for a week or so. She’d taken a turn and it was only a matter of time. That old country heart of hers held on longer than anyone expected, but it was a mercy that it finally stopped beating. She had little quality of life the past two years. I’ll be on a plane tomorrow, heading home to pay my respects, in the clouds thinking about life and death.
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These are my Momentos, vignettes I write daily and publish twice a month. They're incredibly self-indulgent and I'm surprised anyone reads them.
There's one for every day since February 27, 2013.