Shifting gears at nearly 10pm,
Late by my standards,
The three o’clock naps not helping,
Sleeping until six or seven is good, though,
The coffee will still be warm,
The night burned off.
Spotify is playing an eclectic mix,
All day I’ve been distracted by a new project,
One requiring commitment,
Vulnerability, and as Robin says,
“Making my mess my message.”
I’m not sure I’m ready,
Notes are strewn about the table,
The room smells of Sharpie,
Bossa nova plays.
How much should I share?
How deep should I go?
Where is the line between fiction and memoir?
Tomorrow will bring answers,
Tomorrow I’m looking to find some flow.
After the coffee.
There is an idea,
That we are capable of anything
When we set our minds to it.
Putting together a process
To help find that success
Is not quite as easy
As believing it’s so.
Dr. Frazier used to say, “Read.”
She knew the answers were in the research,
In all of those stacks of digital articles
Full of hypotheses, and research methods,
Conclusions, and statistics.
Collins might say, “Observe,”
He’d sound like Bruce, “looking out any window,”
Seeing the squirrels, watching their play,
Writing how it made him feel.
Spike might say, “Immersion,”
Soaking in the culture of the time,
Doing his own dance to the music,
Sporting the threads of the an era,
Becoming versed though research.
Each has a process,
Each gets it done.
I have an idea,
I’m capable of a lot more.
I’ve set my mind to it,
Relying on discipline, curiosity, and challenges
To show me the way to that arbitrary ideal, success.
The good doctor, Billy, and Mr. Lee
Are showing me that it can be so.
Why are there so many,
With so much left
To get done.
I don’t know…
Starting is fun,
Finishing is fun,
Getting there is too much
Get something done.