It was a very, very lazy day today. I spent most of it watching the entire Batman trilogy. I didn’t plan to do this today, but I did, and I’m oddly okay with it. I think that I need to spend my days like this sometimes so I don’t run the risk of burning out. And I bought the entire trilogy months ago on iTunes and have been meaning to watch it for a long time. For some reason, as I watched one movie after another, I felt silly watching this serious interpretation of a man who wears a bat mask beating people up. One of my favorite shows right now is the Flash on the CW because of how it embraces its out-of-this-world source material. I mean, a man can run super fast because of a lightning strike and some chemicals. It’s a silly premise, but I guess that’s not the point, right? I love watching this guy run super fast and exploring the possibilities his super power affords because Barry Allen is a great character who embraces his circumstances with humor¹. I love Batman, too, but that sense of fun was lost in Nolan’s interpretation of the character, I think. And it took me, what, 9 years since the first movie to realize that?

I love superheroes because of their desire to transcend themselves for a greater good. I, like most of the world, love Batman because he doesn’t have any super powers. He became great by wanting it so much he devoted his life to the entire process. One of my role models is Leonardo da Vinci because he loved working. His insatiable curiosity inspired me at such an early age, and I really wanted to be a lot like him. I started carrying a journal around everywhere since middle school because of him. Neither Batman nor Leonardo stopped working and that’s super inspiring. Am I trying to make myself feel guilty for not taking advantage of today? Not at all. Today is Day 70, and I’ve accomplished a lot. One slow day won’t ruin anything; hell, it might make me stronger by having my body rest after yesterday’s brutal workout. And I can’t remember the last time I watched three movies in one day. As long as I’m happy, right?

Again, it’s been 70 days since my “crisis.” 70 days since that moment where I felt so guilty for my actions I needed an outlet to release it all. I imagine meeting these people again and thinking about what I’d say, if they let me say anything at all. An apology doesn’t seem enough, but it’s the only thing I can offer them. Another part of me doesn’t believe I should apologize, and that’s a part of me I want to stand behind. I know who I am, and I know what I’ve done. I made a mistake, and if I could apologize, I will. But they chose to no longer be a part of my life, so I’ve moved on. This whole blog has shown my process and how I chose to live my life after one of my darkest moments. I am who I am, but I’m always improving, always working toward becoming someone better than what I am now.

I may feel alone in this journey right now, but I know I won’t be forever. Anyone who doesn’t care about this can go fuck themselves. I don’t need them. I’m happy with where I am right now and with the progress I’ve made and am making. I can’t wait until day 365. My Year One will be complete, and I can see what I did right, what I did wrong, and where I can improve. And I’ll have it all down on a blog the whole world can see. How great is that?

I’ve built up my life on solitary activities. Everything I like to do doesn’t require anyone but myself. My main love is writing. I sit alone every morning and every night, place my hands on my keyboard, and start typing away. I love it when people read my stuff, but the reader’s aren’t part of the actual act of writing. I do that on my own. Another thing I love to do is to read. Reading is a solitary activity that involves me and someone else’s words. I workout by myself. One of the reasons I love Insanity so much is that it feels like I’m sharing my struggles with other people. No one knows how hard I have to push myself to complete each workout. I’m not sharing that with anyone. Nobody sees the progress I’m making or feels the exuberance I feel after completing each workout. I’m the only tech guy at work, so I have no one there to talk to if I need to bounce ideas off of someone or need help in figuring out some problem. I cook meals just for myself; I live by myself; I have a big car that no one has ridden in but me; and I have a twin size bed that’s only big enough for me, so I sleep by myself. I’m not sharing my life with anyone, and I’m ready for that to change.

I lost my friend over two months ago. I’ve moved on enough where I don’t think about her every day, and where I no longer feel pain when I do. My mind’s been thinking about someone else, and that made me realize how ready I am to move on and start dating again. Part of the reason why I’ve been so focused on building up my home — buying furniture, decorating it, etc. — is because I’ve been imagining bringing someone over. I want to impress her when she sees my little studio apartment. It’s not the size that matters and all that. But since it’s not ready, I’ve been holding myself back a bit. That’s not the only reason or even the biggest reason why I haven’t asked any girl out yet, but it’s the main reason I’m telling myself. It’s a lie and I know it is.

I feel like I don’t know how to share my life with anyone anymore. I’ve been hurt so many times that I’m afraid of opening up with anyone. I know that’s ridiculous, but it’s what I’m feeling. Slow and steady always wins, and that’s how I’m approaching this. With the knowledge of how my previous relationship went, I’m afraid and hesitant to start a relationship with anyone from work even though I’m aware of some possibilities. This job pays me very well, and I don’t want to do anything that may jeopardize that. Other than that, I’m a very passive guy when it comes to asking girls out. Again, I’m so used to doing things on my own that the thought of sharing my life with someone else doesn’t hit me when it matters most.

Confidence is most definitely a contributing factor here. I’m a fucking catch, but again, I don’t feel that way when it matters. When I see a beautiful girl at the supermarket or at the theater or somewhere else entirely, my thoughts don’t immediately go toward talking to her and maybe asking her out. My thoughts react to her beauty and dwell on how beautiful she is, then they go back to whatever it was it was thinking about before. My gut reaction isn’t to go after her but instead to watch her walk away. I need to be more active here. Who knows how many “the ones” I’ve let slip by by my passivity.

How can I ensure I’m more active? I don’t know. Just do it, I guess, and see what happens. What’s the worst that can happen?

There are so many things I want to do, tasks that have been on my todo list for a long time, but I just haven’t found the time to do them. These things aren’t time-sensitive, but there are things I want to do because I think they’ll make me better in some way. There are tasks in there that involve my novel, others that can improve my social life, and more that touch on health, productivity, knowledge, curiosity, and more. My current routines fill up the seventeen hours I’m awake. That’s really one more hour than I should be awake for, but there’s a lot of things I need to do.

This blog is wearing out its welcome, and I think it has strayed far from its original intention. I’m actually afraid of feeling this way, and here’s why. Everything feels great right now. Everything’s running smoothly, and I’m doing everything I want to do. But if I get complacent, then I will break my routine at some point, and I’ll be okay with that for some time. Eventually, I’m going to regress: I’ll start drinking, stop exercising, and maybe start bothering people I shouldn’t be thinking about anymore. I just have to keep pushing forward, no matter how hard, time-intensive, or repetitive it may get. This blog keeps me focused.

I am exhausted right now. I’m fourteen days into the hybrid Insanity workout, and I feel great. I really feel strong and healthy and happier. And I look better than I’ve ever looked before. All this is awesome, but since it’s so routine, I forgot I have over 100 more days of this. I finally ordered the second volume of the Asylum, and that’s the workout I’m going to start on the first of December. I’m either going to be in the greatest shape of my life come New Years Day, or I’ll be down with some injury because I pushed myself too hard. It all feels so automatic that I barely even think about it anymore. I hope I don’t get hurt, though.

Speaking of automatic, I recently purchased the Automatic dongle for my car. It’s this little device that hooks up to my car that tells me everything I need to know about the state of my car. It hooks up to an iPhone app and deciphers all those check engine lights, it studies my gas usage and gives me tips on how I can be more efficient, and studies my driving patterns and teaches me how to drive a bit better. At least, that’s what the website says it’ll do. I should be getting this tomorrow, so I’ll see how useful this little gadget will be. I also bought this leather notebook holder for my pocket notebooks. I bought it because it looks classy, and I tend to be rough with my notebooks, so I hope this handmade leather holder will help protect it a bit. The company that makes them spends time hand-crafting each one, so even though I ordered this a few days ago, it won’t ship for a few more weeks. Hopefully the quality shows through.

And I can’t stop thinking about a girl I shouldn’t be thinking about. She’s so pretty, though. Ugh, it’s frustrating. I can’t, though. I can’t.

Right?

I killed a hawk yesterday, and I scraped its remains from the front grill of my car. I was driving to work, going sixty-five on the highway, and toward my right, I saw the bird soar from up high to down low. I didn’t really notice it until I heard the big thump once I hit it. I felt horrible during the drive to work. So much, in fact, that I couldn’t even walk up and see my front grill until after work. I wish I hadn’t. I imagined a big splatter of blood, maybe a few guts. It was worse: its corpse was stuck between the bars of my front grill, its head poking out, a look of shock on its face.¹ I felt disgusted. I drove home, in broad daylight, knowing I had this fucking hawk splayed out on the front of my car for the whole world to see. Once I drove home, I took out my ice scraper, wrapped a rag around it, and started poking the hawk off my car. It was one of the worst things I’ve ever had to do. The worst part was when its body was stuck, its head bent all the way back toward its tail, and all the poking couldn’t set it free. I had to go on the other side of the bar where it was stuck behind and try to scrape it free. Its body flopped to the floor like a rag doll. I left it there and threw my rag away. There’s still a few hawk feathers stuck on the blood on my front bumper.

If I slowed down for just one second, that hawk would’ve flown past my car and it’ll still be alive right now. But I didn’t register its low flight was in direct opposition to my car. My mind was rocking out to some Hives blaring on my speakers. It was cold, I was annoyed, and all I wanted to do was rock out. My mind wasn’t focused on the damn road. I feel bad, if you can’t tell. It was just a bird, and I do understand that, but I’m no hunter. I don’t like killing things if I don’t have to. I like hawks. Hell, I had to look up hawks on Google Images to double check that it was a hawk I hit. Once I saw the pictures, though, my heart sank. That’s exactly what I hit and scraped off my car. It was flying south. This hawk was cold and just wanted to go somewhere warmer. I ended it, though.

For retribution, the universe broke my $300 Bose headphones. I was listening to a podcast while I washed the dishes tonight, and I bent down to pick something off the floor, and I somehow pulled on the cord or something because the left ear went quiet. All I could hear was the right ear, and I looked at the cord and saw that the end of the cord where it meets the headphone jack was frayed. I tried to mash the copper wires together and then tape it up, but I couldn’t. These headphones are done for. Part of me feels like I deserve this. Like it’s some cruel joke from the universe, and I have to atone for my sins. All because I killed a fucking hawk.

Or it could just mean that I’m not focusing on the world in front of me, and that I need to be more mindful of it.

Winter is in full force up here in Montana, with the temperature ranging from the single digits to below zero. The mountains are blanketed with the white sheet of snow, the ponds and streams are frozen, and I have to leave my house much earlier than usual to warm up my car and scrape the ice from my windshield. I turned on my heater yesterday for the first time since at least last December. In short, it’s cold, it’s beautiful, and it’s awesome. I can’t wait until I force myself to buy the camera I want so I can start taking some pictures.

Montana inspires me more than California did. I’m not sure if it’s something about Montana that California didn’t have, or if it’s the fact that I moved up to Montana at a certain stage of my life where I was more receptive to this facet of the world. I have no idea how long I’ll be staying up here; I do have a desire to travel that I has only grown stronger the more I try to ignore it. In fact, if I didn’t get the job I have now, I was planning to pack up all my possessions and drive off somewhere new. That’s a big reason why I chose to buy a big car instead of a smaller car that would have saved me money on gas: I wanted the option to travel with all my stuff. I’ll be satisfying that desire soon, most likely around Christmas time, when I drive to California to visit my family, to shop for furniture, and to bring back eight boxes of books and a plastic bin full of DVDs and other stuff that I left behind in 2012 when I originally moved up here.

I like most of the people I’ve met up here. One of the first things I noticed after I moved up here was how small this whole place felt. I’m not talking naturally. This place is called Big Sky country for a reason. What I’m talking about are the people. Los Angeles is more populous than the entire state of Montana, which means everyone where I live knows each other in some way. I now work at a K-12 school where friends I’ve fought fire with went to every day to learn. I fought fire with someone whose parents teach where I work. I work with teachers who taught old co-workers and firefighting buddies. People recognize me at stores and are nice enough to say hi. The world up here feels small, and part of me dislikes that, but another part of me likes it. Whenever I’ve come back to Los Angeles, I’ve felt the isolation more starkly there than ever before, even though there’s literally millions more people around me.

I started my novel in 2011, and I didn’t set it anywhere specific. I wanted to create my own city, but I didn’t want to think about it while I was writing it because I wanted to finish the damn thing first. I finished the first draft early last year, and I just barely started rewriting it this year. A few weeks after I started this blog, actually. I created my new city, and I set it in Montana. Once I did, the metaphorical floodgates opened up and the story feels new and fresh and much, much better than before. I’m pouring everything into this project, and I don’t think I would be here right now if I didn’t move up to Montana all those years ago. I moved up here over thirty months ago, and I’m finally ready to call this place my home.

My blog keeps me in check. It keeps me honest with myself and what I want out of life. Today was rest day, which meant I didn’t have to workout. Since I didn’t have to workout, I took that as an excuse for me to relax. I lied in bed, watched TV, talked on the phone with my friend, watched some more TV, had dinner, and then I figured it was late enough for me to start some reading. I even took a tiny nap while watching TV. I really didn’t want to write tonight. I wanted to sleep instead. I didn’t, though, and I’m glad.

I’m reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, and I’m only a few chapters into it, but it’s really good so far. In college, one of my professors had us read a chapter from this book, actually. It was the “Shitty First Drafts” chapter, and I re-read it again tonight and loved it. One of my big issues when writing is not allowing myself to write shitty first drafts. I limit myself to 300 words a day because any more than that will kick in my perfectionism, and then I’ll get no writing done. I’ll be too frustrated to write. She quotes E.L. Doctorow, and that quote is haunting me right now it’s really good. It goes:

Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

I almost never start writing with an ending in mind. I’ll get to the end when I get there is my philosophy. We don’t live life with our ending in sight. At least I don’t. I’m aware of it, and I want to live life as fully as possible before it ends, but that’s as far as I’ll go. So why should I write my shitty first draft with that ending in sight? Shit, I have no idea how this entry is going to end. I’m just writing, and I’ll see where the words take me. Does that make for entertaining reading? I don’t know. This is an amateur blog after all.

Tomorrow I’ll be teaching all 15 of our senior high school students how to use Google Docs by writing a story together. I’m scared but also excited. Teaching them Google Docs will be easy; teaching them how to write a story won’t be. I’m thinking of writing a first line and have each student write a line in succession. I’m also thinking of coming up with a genre or a subject on the spot and starting fresh together rather than coming up with a line beforehand. All in all, I’m there to teach them to use something they might not be familiar with, and in the process, our story will be a very shitty first draft. But it will be our shitty first draft. And to be super honest, I have a tiny crush on one of the senior girls, and that makes me feel a little dirty since I’m ten years older and all.

I have the power to cut that last line out but I don’t want to. This is a shitty first draft after all. It’s also the final draft, so yeah. Eww, right?

I think winter has finally arrived here in Montana, and part of me is excited. I had to laugh at myself for writing that because I would not have said the same thing last year. What makes this year different from last year is that I have a great car now, where last year, I didn’t. Last year I had to walk to work, sometimes in single-digit to below zero temperatures, and I had to walk back home, too. Sometimes I would get a ride from a friend, but that wasn’t a reliable option. This year, though, this year I have a car. I bought my 2004 Dodge Durango because she has 4WD and a V8 Hemi engine. She roars through these icy roads, and I feel safe and warm in there. I didn’t like having to brush the snow off my car and scrape the ice from my windows this morning, but that just comes with the territory. The beauty, though. Amazing.

I don’t want to write about my routines today, because it seems like that’s all I’m writing about. They’re important, though. Today was no different. In other news, my frames finally arrived. My posters look great in these beautiful wood frames, and I can’t wait to hang them up. I’m not entirely sure where they’re going yet, since I have to nail them to the wall, thus making my decision of where to hang them up a bit more important. I have plans to buy furniture, which greatly affects where I can put these posters. I have an idea, and tomorrow I’m going to measure out the wall to space them all out evenly. I’m very anal.

Lets talk more about the stuff that’s been on my mind. By stuff, I mean actual stuff. These are all just things I’m thinking about getting, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get them. I started with that preface because what excited me this morning was the idea of buying a projector instead of a television. A television is big, clunky, and requires a whole other set of furniture to prop it up. I could mount it to the wall, but that’ll just ruin my wall and not save me much space. And don’t get me started on all the wires. A projector, though, is small. I can tuck it away in the corner somewhere and adjust the image to compensate. The image size will most definitely be bigger than a television, and the quality about the same, depending on the brand. There’s one projector I saw that has a wireless receiver that creates its own network, which means I can tuck that away somewhere and hook it up to any HDMI enabled devices I may want to get. I’ll have to buy a screen for the projector, too, which I’m totally okay with because of how minimal that’ll make my dream home entertainment setup. A small projector, a thin screen. That’s it. No big television, no clunky entertainment center. Minimal, practical, but expensive.

I want to buy a bookcase from Ikea when I drive down to California¹ because of all the books I’ve left behind. I want to buy a rug (maybe two) to decorate my home with, and I want to buy a couch. Those are the major furniture purchases I want to make. I want to buy a floor lamp, maybe some small wall lamps for ambient lighting, some plants, and frames for the pictures I want hang up once I buy the new camera I want. Yeah, there’s a camera, too. On my way to California, I want to take lots of pictures. Not just any type of picture, though, a good, high-quality one, one I would be proud to display on my walls. And since it’ll be my first road trip, I want to document that journey in a beautiful way. I won’t buy all this stuff at once; hell, some of this stuff may not enter my life for months, but they’re stuff I’ve been thinking about getting for a long time, and I think they’ll make me happier.

Even though I don’t consider myself a minimalist anymore, I do consider myself someone who doesn’t buy things just to buy things. I have a purpose for every item I allow to enter my life. I used to be so concerned about the quantity of my possessions and never about the lack of quality that brought to my life. Things, even though they’re just things, are the little details that make life more pleasant to live.

When I come home from work, I want to just melt into my couch, grab a book from my bookcase, turn on that floor lamp, and just drift off into a world of words.

Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. During those times, I feel like none of what I’m doing is worth doing anymore. That I should just quit and stop pretending I’m someone I’m not. Nobody cares about your journey, that voice in my head says. Why should anybody care? Your life is one of billions. I’m not doing it for anybody, though. I agree, nobody cares how I live my life. Nobody cares if I had a good day or a bad day, a productive day or a mediocre day. I’m going to write it down anyway because that’s what I do. I write. I have to understand my life and what it is I’m doing every day. Every little moment I live through adds up to the entirety of my life, and I want to know I lived it as best as I could.

Just like that artisan who’s spent his entire life learning how to perfect his craft , I’m learning how to perfect my life by working at living it as best as I can. Part of it is learning how to deal with the negative. Negativity, when it comes to our lives, is a relative term. What I consider negative, someone else might consider a positive. Some people might consider my ceaseless loneliness as a negative. I live alone, but I don’t feel lonely. I miss the touch of a woman, but I’m not dying over it. I’ll find someone eventually; I’m not too worried about it. Some people might think my relentless commitment to my tasks and schedules is a negative. Some might see it as a positive. I’m in the middle. I know I can’t sustain this forever. I don’t much want to, either. Whenever I find someone, I want to spend every waking minute I can with her, with limits of course. And soon I’ll be driving down to California to pick up the rest of my stuff, and to visit my family and friends. That time won’t be my time. Some people might hate my blog. Maybe hate’s a strong word. Bored by it? Annoyed by it? Either way, they might not enjoy reading my blog. That’s okay. I’m not writing it for them. I’m writing it for myself.

I started this blog sixty-three days ago because I hated who I had become. I hurt my best friend in the entire world with my raw stupidity. That raw stupidity was exacerbated by my continuous desire to drown myself in alcohol. I had gained weight and felt terrible. I wasn’t writing, reading, or doing anything I loved because I just wanted to drink and watch TV. I had quit my job because it reminded me of my best friend, and I didn’t want to work there anymore if she wasn’t going to be there. I was actually super sad when I imagined walking to work and not seeing her car parked in the parking lot. That thought alone drove me to quit. All these things added up to a life that brought me nothing but pain. So I started this blog. Partly because I wanted her to find it and read it. I wanted her to miss me and want to get back in touch with me. I gave her too much credit, though. Even if she did find this blog and read every entry, I don’t think she would appreciate the work I’ve done and am doing, even when part of it was driven by her. I’ve moved on, and I’m happy with where I am. Hell, I’m better than I’ve ever been.

One day, I’m going to look back at all these entries. I’m going to read them one by one, from the oldest one to the newest, and I’m going to read the story of my life as written by me. I hope to see progress. I hope I’m not the red queen, always running in place and getting nowhere. That’s how I feel right now, actually, like I’m running in place and getting nowhere. Part of me knows that’s not true. Progress, by its very definition, is relative. As long as I’m heading toward a destination, I’m making progress. And I’m definitely moving forward. That’s all I hope to do.

”How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives," is probably one of my favorite quotes of all time. It’s by Annie Dillard, and I’m currently reading her book, The Writing Life, where this quote appears. The context for the quote involves schedules where, in roughly her words, a day spent reading books isn’t a good day, but a life spent reading books is a good life. She went into many examples of routines from writers she admired, and how many of them had the same routine every day. Some read for hours in the morning before they wrote; others had to walk for a few hours before they were ready to write; and Annie’s, where she had to walk to a small cabin with no windows and only the essential tools needed to write before she could write. Yesterday I wrote briefly about routines, so I was nodding my head and agreeing with everything she had to write about this topic.

I believe that good routines can add up to a good life, a life of one’s own design. We all want something great from our lives, but many of us don’t know how to get that. I’m not saying I have the answers for everyone, but I think I’m close to finding that for myself. A life where I write every morning, where I examine myself every night, and where I push my fitness to the extreme every day, is, in my opinion, a life worth living. As long as these basic routines are accomplished every day, I’m happy. Of course I want to do more than this, and most of the time, I do. But if for some reason I can’t do any of them, I hope to at least accomplish these three routines.

If there’s one point that I disagree with Annie Dillard on is the environment a writer surrounds himself in. She believes that all a writer needs is a basic environment where there really isn’t any stimuli present that could distract the writer from writing. I live in a studio. My apartment is my writing environment. But it’s also my home, and I want it to feel like one. I’ve been very focused these past few weeks on decorating my home as beautifully as I can, and today I began to see the fruits of my labor come into fruition. My desk, for the most part, is finished. I have everything I need and want on there, and I feel so much better and more productive with these new tools. I’ve been thinking about the rest of my house, and I’ve come up with a few ideas that have excited me tremendously. By the end — if I ever get there — my home will have many visual stimuli’s, but that’s by my own choosing. I’ve never been distracted by what’s surrounding me; instead, my biggest distraction is the internet. And that just involves willpower, which I tend to be pretty good with in the morning. Especially since I’m writing first thing in the morning, so I’m too tired to even care about the internet.

Montana is my home, and this place inspires me every day. I love my home, but it doesn’t feel like a home yet. It’s close, but there’s still so much more work to be done. I’m planning to drive to California to pick up about nine boxes of books. I’m also planning to stop by Ikea and other stores to buy some much needed furniture and decorations. I’m planning to do this soon, but I’m not too sure when. Once I do, though, once I come back with more stuff, not only will I be poorer, but also be happy with the place I’m now calling home.

I like to be organized. Whenever I have an idea for a task, I have a trusted place where I can put that so I won’t forget it. Whenever I feel frustrated or angry or sad and need to expel some energy, I know that I will workout later in the day, giving me that outlet to satisfy those emotions. My wallet always goes in my left side back pocket, my pocket notebook goes in my right side back pocket, my phone goes in my left front pocket, and my pen and keys go in my right front pocket. Before I leave my house, I grab my keys from the same place I always put them, I grab my phone from the same place I put it, and if I need a sweater, I grab that from the same place I always put them. Whenever I come home, I take off my shoes and put them underneath my bed, I toss my keys on the surface beside my bed, and I charge my phone on my newly acquired dock, placed on the same surface I’ve always use to place my phone. I have many more of these habits and ways I like to do things, but these are just a few.

Some people may think I have ADD; I just like to think things through once and never have to think about it again. I don’t want to spend precious time looking for my keys because I didn’t have a designated place for them in my home. I don’t want to keep a dozen tasks in my head because I don’t have a trusted system to put them in so I can free up my mind to think about other things. I don’t want to leave my house without a charged phone or without my keys, something that has happened before. I keep a notebook and pen with me because I don’t want to enter a situation where not having these tools negatively affects me in some way.

My life is built on routines. That’s the only way I know how to better myself. At the moment, this is my current routine: I write and meditate every morning, on weekdays I go to work, on weekends I don’t, after work, I workout and then I read, and after that I do some todo list maintenance, and finish my night writing an entry on this blog. This is my daily routine and this is the exact order these things occur in my day. They’re not always done at the exact same hour every day, but they’re pretty close. I use time to gauge how much time and effort I need to accomplish these tasks at a reasonable time. There’s so much more I could do, and there are gaps in my days where I could efficiently add a new habit into but I haven’t yet.

My days seem busy but my progress looks slow. I won’t be done with my novel until well into next year, maybe later. I look a bit stronger, but I’m definitely not where I want to be. I still have so many more books to read and so many more blog entries to write. Sixty-one entries is nowhere near three hundred and sixty-five. And my home is nowhere near where I want it to be. That excitement I had before my purchases arrived in the mail and up till the first few days with these possessions has waned. These products are now a part of my life, and since they fit me and my lifestyle very seamlessly, they’ve disappeared into the background of my life. That’s amazing, actually. That was the whole point when I bought them, and I’m happy to see it play out that way.

Nobody reads my blog anymore, but I don’t care that much. I have big plans for this place, but they won’t come into fruition for a long time. All I know is that I have to keep moving forward, little by little, every day until all these little pieces add up to something amazing. And I can’t wait until that day. In the meantime, I’m going to keep focusing on my life and how I can live it as best as I can.