Sometimes I have imaginary conversations in my head that I may or may not act out in real life.¹ One recent conversation has been with a female stereotype of sorts. She’s not real but instead represents some future female I’d talk to or something. Somebody like the cute 18 year old from school. In this conversation, for some reason, I talk about my feelings, because that’s what I think about, my feelings. I told her that I feel things extremely, in that if I’m angry, I have to experience and sense the whole spectrum of anger. If I’m in love, I have to passionately express my feelings of love. Some people may say I’m just passionate, and I’d agree. But I do think it’s more than that, though.

For the past few days, I’ve been writing a lot about photography, and hey, I’m still really interested in it, so I don’t think this is some fad I’ve fallen into this week. I love expressing myself, and I really think and believe photography is a great outlet for me to do that that’s different from writing. I’m still telling stories, which I love, but it’s with a single image. It’s a tough challenge to tell an interesting story with a photograph, but it’s something I really want to explore and get better at. I love the idea of telling stories differently.

I used to believe that all humans are the same. That we all felt the same and saw the world in the same way. For a long time I thought and believed that. Then I grew up. That’s so far from the truth that I have to laugh at myself for ever thinking that. But part of that experience has stuck around, to the point where I think it’s redundant to talk about my feelings because everyone feels the same way. I had to write this little preface because I don’t know if everyone feels their emotions as extremely as I do or even if what I think is extreme is normal to everyone else. I don’t think that’s true, though, but I don’t know. I really believe that artists become artists because they feel their emotions more passionately than everyone else, and that’s why they become artists, to use their art to express their overflowing emotions.

I love very deeply, and I hurt very painfully, and I get angry very dangerously. I think a big reason why I’ve latched on to meditation so much, especially on this journey I started 228 days ago, is because I know I need to take control of my emotions. I need to be more selective on how I express them, especially when it comes to people. I’ve scared people away with how deeply I feel things², and I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I don’t want to scare anyone away, so I have to change this part of myself, I think.

I know I should love myself for who I am and be who I am and all that, but sometimes we have to check ourselves and reign ourselves back a bit to live in the society we’ve chosen to call home. Who knows, though. Maybe I should just be who I want to be, express myself as deeply and passionately as I want to, and I’d only scare away the people who were only getting in my way from finding the people I should be with.

Earlier this year, I was offered the opportunity to teach my own class to a small group of high school students. That opportunity eventually morphed into a co-teaching the drama class with another teacher job, and I’ve learned a lot since starting that about a month or so ago. Today the principal asked me if I wanted to teach a Focus group next week, the same job he offered me earlier, and I said yes. That means I’ll be teaching two classes this quarter. I did a bit of hustling and told him that next fall I could join up with an English teacher and teach a creative writing class. He loved that idea and agreed to give it to me. All these things will definitely look good on my grad school résumé…

Teaching is fun, but I also have to admit that it’s tough to motivate unmotivated kids. My very first idea assignment was having these kids write a five page story just to see where they were creatively and academically. The drama teacher immediately nixed that idea, so I came up with our current project where these kids perform the first 10 pages of the Social Network script. I wanted them to memorize their parts and perform that in front of the class, but the drama teacher again nixed that idea. Since then, I’ve just been coming up with ideas for the kids to do and the drama teacher telling the students about it and assigning the homework. Even though we’re teaching these kids the stuff I wanted to teach them, it’s not what I expected it to be. I thought I’d be given more of a chance to teach, but that hasn’t happened. With my own class, however…

With my new Focus group — and a Focus group is kind of like a study hall, but with a particular focus on something, like cinema for me — I was thinking of incorporating my current fascination for photography into the class somehow. Cinema is, of course, a visual medium, so photography is a natural and perfect fit. This might provide the necessary excuse to ahem spend that money on a great camera. I might not, but if I want something, I somehow do what I need to do to get it. I’m excited for this class because it’ll be a smaller group of students, I’ll be the only teacher, and I think we’ll have fun. I want to focus on one aspect of cinema, and that’s telling a short story visually. I don’t care about acting or lighting or anything; all I care is that the images tell a cohesive story. I’m not sure what this will look like with actual students, but that’s where my thoughts are right now.

And if all else fails, I’d be teaching myself a subject I love and that could always use some brushing up on. I’m learning photography concepts, and the best way to retain that information is by teaching it to others. So even if the class ultimately fails, I would have gotten something out of it. I don’t think it will, though. You know why? Because I’m awesome. Yeah!!

I’ve been on a photography kick for the past few days, and I’m really enjoying it. I’ve been posting a lot of photos on my Instagram, which is a social network I’m really loving. I love seeing so many creative artists taking some fantastic photos. It’s inspiring, and it makes me want to be a better photographer. Years ago I watched some Lynda.com videos on photography, and a lot of the concepts stuck around, but I never really used it in any active way. I’m back to watching photography tutorials on Lynda.com, as well as some on Skillshare, and I really feel like I have all the knowledge I need; I just need to go out there, take pictures, and learn.

All the way back on Day 60 I talked about wanting to buy a very good camera. Even though I really love the iPhone 6’s camera and that it’s super portable and always with me, my desire for a better camera — a professional camera — is back. I feel like I’ve artistically wasted my current stay in Montana. Sure, I’ve taken some great wildland firefighting photos, and I’m currently processing and editing the best shots I took over the past few years, but I know if I was a bit more active about it, I could take some beautiful shots of Montana’s gorgeousness. I don’t know… just something I’m thinking about and currently feeling.

One thing I don’t like that I do is think that by getting another tool, I would in effect be more creative and/or productive. An external object isn’t going to fix an internal flaw. What’s wrong with the camera on my iPhone? It is the most popular camera in the world. I guess I want a certain look that my iPhone can’t produce. And playing around with physical lenses seems like so much fun to me. Also, I want to work with RAW images and have an excuse to buy and master Adobe Lightroom. They did just come out with version 6 today. I do have to consider the cost, though: a good camera, mirrorless or a DSLR, a couple of good lenses, Adobe Lightroom, and probably an external hard drive to store all my images, will run a few grand, not to mention the added time sink using, learning, and processing all these tools.

Photography is just a hobby, and a man needs a hobby. Writing, on the other hand, isn’t a hobby. It’s my life. It really is. I love doing it, I love thinking about it, and I love getting better at it. Photography could very well be a passing fad. Just something I’m excited about now because it’s a distraction from… whatever. Life or something. Or it could stick around for a while. The joy is in the journey. A year from now I’ll know. Tomorrow, though? Who knows. All I know is that I’m excited about it now, and I just want to learn about it more and go out there and take some awesome shots.

Why was I so sad yesterday? That was uncharacteristic of me. I feel better today, and I attribute that to my ridiculous two hour workout, a nice, full day at work, and this gorgeous Montana weather. Yes, I did a two hour workout, and I was sweating buckets by the end of it, but you know what? I feel fantastic right now. One thing I love — really love — is when I’m dripping with sweat, and I’m on my hands and knees, and all I want to do is lie down, stop, and catch my breath, but I don’t because I just have to do one more push-up or one more jump, and when I do and every part of my body burns and hurts afterward, then I know I’m working out, and I know I’m getting stronger, and all of that makes me feel incredible.

When all else fails, I can rely on my routine. My routine has been battle-tested and in development for years, and I’m really grateful that I can fall back on it, even when I’m sad and unmotivated. One thing that I would love to improve, though, is fitting in those unique little tasks into my days because I’ve noticed myself skipping many of them on a daily basis because I just don’t have the time to get to them and give them my complete and utter focus. I know what I have to do to do it (create new habits); I’ve been doing it for years now. I just gotta do it.

I love building things up slowly. I’m over 80,000 words in my novel now. All it took was writing 300 words back in September and continuously adding 300 words on top of that every morning for months. Eventually I doubled my output, and now I’m here: 80,336 words into my novel, which I love more than my first one, and a little over a month to finish it, which I will. I love how my body has transformed from a flabby 230 lbs Mario to a stronger 170 lbs Mario. All it took was my decision to see if I could lose one pound a week, and here I am, three and a half years later.

Nothing worth lasting happens overnight. You need to completely rewrite and redesign your life to be more healthy and in a way that gels with your goals, and above all, you have to live it the way you want to live it. Trust me, there will be some low points — just read yesterday’s post — but in the end, if you find yourself right back into the groove of things after a bad day, then I think you’ve found the right type of life for you.

I’ve been doing this for two hundred and twenty-five days now, and I’m still learning something new about myself, not to mention finding the energy to write something at all. If that’s not proof of what I’m preaching, then I don’t know what else to do.

I wasted this weekend, and I almost didn’t want to write tonight. I didn’t care if I broke my promise or all the many streaks I’ve kept active these past two hundred and twenty-four days. None of me cared. The only thing making me write tonight is habit. I have no idea what this entry is going to be about, and I don’t even know if it’ll be worth reading once I’m done. I wanted to sleep in this morning, but I didn’t because I forced myself to get up because I wanted today to be a good day. I sluggishly went through my morning routine, and once I meditated — which is the last activity in my routine — I began to watch TV and my day went down hill from there. I spent most of the day in bed being unproductive, and I really hate myself for it.

I could’ve been productive today but I wasn’t. I didn’t even care about my todo list today. The only reason I checked stuff off was seriously out of habit. There was no friction in doing them because I’ve been doing them for so long that it’s all just automatic. That’s for the best because I was too unfocused to use my mind at all today.

I’ve been sad all day, and I haven’t been able to pinpoint why yet. Part of me is lonely, and I definitely need more friends and/or a girlfriend, but I don’t think it was that. These fucking beautiful days have brought back some painful memories of days gone by, but I don’t think it was that either. I think it was the fact that I stayed indoors during another beautiful day, like my soul wanted to feel the sun’s rays against my skin because it knew it would make me feel better. I didn’t, though, and I don’t know why. I didn’t even think about it until I started writing my journals today. It made sense to me.

I was thinking of transferring my Squarespace blog to a WordPress one, but I don’t know yet. I don’t know if I want to keep blogging after this project is over. I know I’ve said I do, but my moods change and now I don’t feel like it. I’ll keep journaling, of course, but privately. I don’t know if I like all this openness anymore. Who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow or in a week. I don’t. I stopped trying.

I’m rushing through this now because I just want to reach my word count. I feel like my old self, where a bottle of wine and some fast food was my nightly routine. That and sending texts I knew were going to remain unanswered to someone I no longer give a shit about. I hate when I’m like this, and I don’t want to dwell here for too long for fear of reverting back to him. All I know is that I want to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow ready to go to work.

Mobile photography overtook my focus today, and I absolutely loved it. It meant I didn’t spend my time that wisely, as in, I had a list of todo’s in OmniFocus that I absolutely did not do because I was taking pictures and watching photography courses on Skillshare and editing my photos in various apps on my iPhone. I have no idea if this is just a one-off thing and I’ll wake up tomorrow regretting today’s wasted potential, or if this will turn into a satisfying hobby that will satisfy some sort of creative itch. Time will tell.

My Saturday ritual has started to include a trip to the Starbucks in Polson, and while I waited I took a boring picture of the logo. I wanted to play around with some black and white photography and typography, and I kind of like the end result. I wish I took more pictures at various angles, but I felt that’ll be a little socially awkward for me to do. It’s just a Starbucks after all.

I took this picture after getting a haircut, and I spent at least half an hour editing it in various apps on my iPhone before settling on this final version. I posted it in Instagram, and I really like how it turned out. Montana is beautiful, and I have been here for three years and it feels like I haven’t taken advantage of my time here yet. I don’t know if this photography bug will compel me to travel more and to take more interesting pictures, but if this ends up being the best picture I’ve taken during my time here, so be it. I love it.

Once I came home and parked my car, I saw this field of dandelions just smiling under the bright sun, and I had to take a picture. I took a few pictures, took this one and edited it, and I really like the final result. I upped the saturation, obviously, because I really felt these colors represented spring. Spring doesn’t officially start until Tuesday, but it’s already started here. I love all the green on the ground and the blue in the sky, and everything just feels good when the outside looks like this.

One thing this diversion caused me to miss was reading voraciously. I didn’t read a single word of fiction today, and that makes me sad because, and here it comes, I need to focus on my writing and reading and I failed at that today. It’s great that I found something else that was fun and that provided a momentary break from my usual routine, but I need to be better than this. I have books to read, words to write, and such a limited amount of time to do it all in. Part of me is already feeling like grad school is a done thing. I can’t get complacent. I have to do all the work, no matter the cost.

God… I need to relax, don’t I?

The end of the day sometimes forces me to look back at my day with a wish that it had been different, where I should’ve acted with more purpose and joy. This regret fills my heart with a present that should’ve been instead of this sorrowful reality. These beautiful sunny days are my first in Montana in a long time where I finally feel at home, yet I’m missing people I used to have in my life and people I wished were in my life but have never been. I feel withdrawn from society when I shouldn’t be since I have so much to offer. I’m alone right now because I choose to be alone.

I need to write, and I need to read, and I need to work. I’m directing all this physical and intellectual effort toward one particular end, and that’s to be my best. I need to be my best because life is too short to live it in mediocrity. Life depends on how I spend its time, and I want to spend it working. So these brief moments of sorrow I’m suffering need to be worth it; I have to make them worth it.

Life, like any good journey, has its ups and downs. I was down for a while, but over these past two hundred and twenty-two days, I’ve pulled up my bootstraps and started climbing that mountain, and I feel like I’ve reached the top and can see the whole world of possibilities. I can lift my hand up in the air and reach for the stars because that’s all I want to do. I want to reach for the stars and do all that I’m capable of doing. It’s an insane feeling because I feel like I can do anything.

At the end of the day, though, I’m only human. As much as some people think I am, I’m not a robot. I do get tired and burnt out, and I do feel unmotivated and sad and every other emotion in the human language on some days. For example, I’m really forcing myself to write right now because I feel sad, and I don’t want to write anything. Why am I sad? Because I’m alone, mostly. I would’ve loved to spend this beautiful sunny day with someone, which made me nostalgic, which made me sad and regretful.

I wrote in my writing journal today that I should stop writing in this blog and instead use that time to work on my novel or to build up a short story portfolio. That idea sounds super appealing, but I did make a promise to write 365 entries. I’m very close to accomplishing that, and breaking it now seems ridiculous. I’m conflicted, though, and I don’t know how I want to proceed yet. I really want to improve my fiction, and I especially want to build up a portfolio of short stories for grad school. I thought of maybe cutting the word count for these entries from 500 to maybe 250 words. It’ll still be daily, but it’ll be shorter. I might move in that direction if my urge to write more fiction is stronger than my urge to keep my blog writing streak going.

I read the first short story from Flannery O’Connor’s book, Everything That Rises Must Converge, and it was great. It was better than great, it was awe-inspiring. Her very first line revealed so much in a single sentence that I feel embarrassed for my sentences. How powerful a simple sentence can be. I love learning this stuff. I only read the story once, but I’m going to read it again tonight before bed, and I think, once I read the rest of the book, I’m going to transcribe a few short stories and start learning from them as much as I can. Because wow: I’m a sorry excuse for a writer.

If I want to get into graduate school, and not just any graduate school, a great graduate school, I have to be a better writer. I have to tear my writing down and build it up again with writers that are a thousand times better than me. I have to learn and I have to read and I have to write. Above all I have to write and agonize over every sentence. I really think if I did that with my novel, my 77,000 words can easily turn into 30,000. Maybe I’m being a bit too extreme, but that’s how I feel right now.

I have this abnormal desire to be just be the best right now, and it’s driving my every thought, my every move, and it makes me feel great. I’m also pushing my body every day to the extreme ends of what its capable of and those endorphins coursing through my veins feel amazing. They’re addicting, and I don’t know why more people don’t work out. Get your ass up and move people. Your body will thank you and there’s nothing wrong with looking amazing.

I love pushing myself when I’m tired, especially when I’m tired, because that’s the only way I’ll get stronger. That’s the only way anyone will get stronger. It applies to everything other than exercise. I’m a better writer today than I was six years ago, but I’m still pushing myself harder than ever. Even if I write a million words a year (2,700 words a day — totally doable), that doesn’t guarantee mastery or anything. Mastery means more than just doing something. If that activity is done mindlessly, then you’ll be at the same level you were a decade before, if that’s how long you’ve been doing it. It takes deliberate practice to improve, and that means complete focus and determination to be better. That’s where my mind is right now. And I want to be better.

For me, that starts with my sentences. My subjects and my verbs. Those simple and complex ones. And everything in between and around them. I focus so much on what I’m trying to say, and I don’t spend enough time in how I’m going to say it. It’s a shift in thinking, but it’s something I have to do. If it’s not hard, it’s not worth doing, right?

I finished reading the first part of Don Quixote, and a few hours later I received Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O’Connor and Runaway by Alice Munro. I’m going to take a break from reading the second part of Don Quixote and focus my energies on reading and learning from these two books of short stories. I’m excited. With all my focus geared toward improving my craft, I’m living a happier life.

I feel more creative. I have a few characters in my novel that I love writing, and I started writing them again yesterday, and everything I’m writing with them I love. They’re funny and tragic and they’re the heart to my story, so much so that I’m thinking of focusing on them a lot more in the second draft. I’m also nearing the end of my story, so everything’s converging toward the climax, and I’m having fun writing that. I’m supposed to be finished with this novel sometime next month, and that deadline both scares and excites me. It’s good to have a deadline, but that also means I need to start wrapping things up and getting ready for the rewrite. Can’t wait.

The main drama teacher is gone for the rest of the week, so I was able to take charge of the class and act on a few of the ideas I’ve wanted to play around with. Like fun improv activities. We played one called Freeze, where two students stand up and start acting a scene that I give them. Later, someone in the audience yells Freeze! and takes the place of one of the actors — pose and all — and continues the scene. I would then yell Stop! and give them a different prompt once things were slowing down. We had a lot of fun, but I noticed a lot of the same kids going up and doing all the work. We had to call on a few students to come up and start participating. They did well, but I would’ve liked them to be more active. That’s something I could work on later.

They start acting their Social Network scenes tomorrow, if we have complete groups available. Our school — and possibly our district or the whole state of Montana — thought it wise to schedule more of their track meets during school hours. I had most, if not all, of my track meets after school. They weren’t going to have us miss school because of an insignificant track meet. But I guess in Montana they feel the opposite. So many of our drama students are in track and so they’ll be gone tomorrow. If we have groups, we’ll go; if not, we’ll probably do more improv. Fine with me. Our next assignment has something to do with Fairy Tales, but we haven’t figured that out yet.

Pretty standard and habitual day, unfortunately. The more I simply read and write and workout and not do much else, the less material I have to work with to use in these entries. I may not make it a full year not for lack of discipline, but for lack of material, and to save my few readers the trouble of reading something very boring.

I’d rather read than write right now. Take that for what it’s worth.

As a reaction to yesterday’s entry, I read Don Quixote as much as I could, fitting in reading times during the little breaks of my day. I was able to get farther into the book than usual, and I’m really grateful for that because I’m really close to finishing the first part of this really good novel. Don Quixote, the book, is hilarious, and Don Quixote, the character, is amazing. He’s committed to becoming a great knight-errant, and he’s doing all he can to be one. How many of us can say that about anything in our lives?

Last year, I wrote a short story for the Sycamore Review Wabash Prize for Fiction. I thought the story I wrote was pretty good, but it was declined. I had to pay a submission fee to enter, which also paid for a year’s subscription to their literary journal. A few months ago they sent my first journal from my subscription, which I haven’t gone through, and today, I received my second journal. The first one didn’t have last year’s fiction prize winners, which is why I haven’t read through it yet, but the second journal does have last year’s short story winner and finalists, which I’m eager to read soon. These entries were considered good enough for publication, so there has to be something there that I can learn from.

Tomorrow I should get two more books containing short stories. A big reason why I read so much Don Quixote today was because I wanted to quickly start these two books. I don’t think I’ve ever tried reading two fiction books at the same time — other than the time in 2011 when I read a Shakespeare play a week along with whatever book I was reading — but I’m considering doing that and incorporating it into my routine somehow. I’m thinking of a morning reading and a nightly reading or something like that. I won’t know until I figure it out, naturally.

I also bought Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace and the revised version of Getting Things Done a little over a week ago. I also want to get started on these books soon, plus I’m building a substantial list of fiction books I want to buy that will help me become a better reader, and in turn, a better writer.

I’ve never been so focused on one thing in my entire life. My goal is to be a better writer, and I’m trying everything I know how to be that. I don’t consider these entries a reflection of my skill and talent because I truly believe writing is rewriting, and I don’t do that with my blog entries. Instead, my blog is a place where I get to think aloud, and I think it’s been that since the beginning. It’s where I try to keep myself accountable, write out what I’m thinking, and document the progress I’m making as a writer and a human being. I used to feel so guilty that my entries weren’t that good, but I’m glad they weren’t. They shouldn’t have been.

What I need to do, and what I’m doing, is to focus on my literary fiction, whatever that means. That, again, means reading and writing as best as I can. Lets do this.