It’s the Tuesday after Labor Day. I can’t get into the groove about my career, my cats or my life.
I am about to embark on a 12-week journey into hell with a ton of travel and conferences. Holy crap. When will I write? When will I see my family? How will I stay sober and relatively healthy enough to run a marathon in November?
I don’t have any answers.
My cat, Scrubby, is now on Ativan because coming off Paxil was a little rough for him. He’s super talkative and snuggly from the Ativan, which is awesome and adorable when I am watching TV and not too great when I’m doing an emergency Skype call with an executive on a Monday night.
He’s such a scrubilicious monster.
And the rest of my life is like yours — awesome, busy, overbooked and underfunded based on my big dreams. I am not up-to-speed on the Ukrainian crisis. I stopped paying attention to what’s happening in Ferguson, Syria and Iraq. And it’s nearly decorative gourd season, motherfuckers, but I don’t have any time to buy gourds.
You know what has me excited and focused, however?
Fall movie season is making good books come to life. Strong, complex, flawed women who look pretty but have some serious issues.
I love it.
I am all over the map when it comes to my honing my overarching business strategy and articulating my unique value proposition to the marketplace. The marketplace can suck it, though. Fall movie season is giving me a reason to get home, get organized, and get my shit together so my weekends can be spent at the movies — escaping Ferguson, human rights abuse, and the weak-ass economy that disproportionately favors the status quo.
I need more Katniss in my life!