There are moments when I want to throw the monitor through a window rather than stare at it for another second. A bit violent, perhaps, but therapy has taught me to accept my feelings and nature rather than deny it. For the safety of my neighbors, I walked away and left the monitor on its stand. Something inside said take a vacation and recharge for a few days. While physically ready to implement Oriana’s edits, the brain–and more importantly the voice that directs me to the keyboard in the first place–said back off and wait. Anyway, I gave myself a few days for DVD’s, some reading, and a visit with Mom.

Speaking of one’s nature, as Mom and I strolled through her kitsch downtown in search of a restaurant, she mentioned something that differentiates me from many writers. It has nothing to do with my actual writing skills.

A lot of the stuff I write about, I also like really doing, or would at least consider attempting. Now if I was into shopping, that wouldn’t be very interesting; rather, shopping is something I avoid, and I’d sooner drive a mannequin through a display case than browse for tzotchkes willingly. But I like writing about adrenaline and action based backdrops. Hemingway ran with the bulls. Hunter Thompson rode with the Hell’s Angels. I jumped out of a plane, and am scheduled for more passes.
Though I never understood why either author passed so violently. Surely they had options.