I’ve been away. Hello again, thank you for coming here.
Perhaps you’re like I am. Maybe not. I’m a person that overthinks nearly everything.
I’ll usually extend a conversation to a detrimental point for all involved while I’m deciding on a big move to make. I’ll sit in bed for 30, 40 minutes sometimes in the morning before I get out and go the bathroom. And all of that time, I’ll just be thinking about how I’m a warm, buttery, toasty bagel in my blankets and how the decision to relieve myself of last night’s liquid deposits (and more!) doesn’t really have the upper-hand over how comfortable I am at the very moment. That’s completely silly. Silly Goose, Party of One.
After being around for nearly a third of a century, I’ve got some stealthy ways to mask this so as not to impede on your sphere of consciousness, for I wouldn’t want to take you away from your life-impacting game of Candy Crush that you’ve spent $42 on already. A lot of this overthinking doesn’t concern another person at all. It’s just a private misery that I’ve allowed myself to have. I guess it’s not misery, and I sometimes revel in the ability not to have to decide everything in a split-second. It is a type of malaise, however. I will usually wait an extra two days to trim up my beard after thinking about it way too much. But I don’t take selfies, so I’m not entirely self-involved.
I overthought the process to release This Was The Beginning almost all fucking summer. And it was a busy ass summer. Time I could have been putting toward any other number of creative things. So this is a good reason that giving yourself deadlines is a crucial thing in order to get things accomplished. About five weeks, I decided to release it in three volumes, each one building on the last.
Accomplishment as a writer is one of the endgames that we’re all trying to get to. Come hell or high water, scorching Arizona Augusts or a capsizing barge in Astoria, Oregon. We want that release of the project being done. It’s a special orgasm that is unsurpassed except in the form of an actual orgasm, both of which are accented well with a Parliament Light or whatever the fuck e-cigarette or vape product that you’re into this week.
September 30th was a special day. The first volume of This Was The Beginning was to be released, I was beginning to head out on the road for an adventure of sorts, and I was finishing moving out of my residence that I had held for the last couple years. And I was a mental wreck, because of course I had allowed all these things to transpire in the same calendar day, among other small events. And much of this angst was had because I allowed myself to overthink things into my own detriment, causing delay and bottlenecking of tasks to be completed.
So get a calendar and keep to it. Don’t allow things to pile up. Overthinking shows intelligence, but it’s a sliding scale. There’s a bell curve, and an appropriate time to strike for every item that you want to accomplish. I can only speak for myself, as we all work differently and you haven’t allowed me the grace to control your life yet. Yet.
It’s entirely possible to have organization. Maybe just not the perfect organization that we fantasize about while a myriad other thoughts race through our head when we’re about to orgasm.