I'm a loser...

Seriously - not shaving until the book sells?  That's stupid.  It's gone.  This weekend.  Along with a new haircut.

I don't know what I was thinking.  I mean, could not shaving really alter the course of the universe and have the great guiding spirits look down upon me and say "LO!  HE HATH NOT SHAVED!  THUS WE MUST GET HIS BOOK PUBLISHED!"

Haven't even heard from Caitlin in a month, so it's not like things are getting better.  Plus it itches.  And it's hot.  And I keep twirling it to see if I could make it into long braids like Captain Jack Sparrow.

But, alas, I'll never look like Johnny Depp, despite what my wife thinks.

See, I realized this morning as I was sitting in my car with absolutely no noise around me meditating, that far too much of my time is spent worrying about the future.  When I sat there with complete silence, just the thoughts of my inner voice catching my attention, time damn near literally stood still.  I would close my eyes, think, talk to myself in my head, play catch with the mental fairies buzzing around my subconscious, and when I opened my eyes?  One minute had gone by.

I'm trying too hard - that's what I came to realize.  I'm pushing.  Trying to be funny.  Trying to be wise.  Trying to be a thoughtful and literary genius.

And time is flying away from me like a bullet train while I'm on the station.  So I'm gonna chill.  I won't stop writing, because the new story I'm working on is REALLY cool, but I won't sweat publishing.  I'm writing for myself, for my characters, and maybe for my family.  I'm writing these words now for you guys, whomever you are, in the hopes that one or two of you may find them insightful.

But in the words of Smashmouth, *%!@ it Let's Rock!

Write on my people!  WRITE ON!