The Limits of Control

We set ourselves up to impossibilities.  Earlier this year, I decided to update this journal everyday.  This is a simple task of discipline.  And although I've said this in the past, I never committed to it until the last few months.

But...but, I fell off the wagon, as per course.  With all that pent up will power and positive 80's self talk shit, I failed at keeping my word.  

But...but why?  The simple answer is that it was never THE PRIORITY.  As soon as I was forced on some writing deadline for bigger projects (ie: feature film) and an editing responsibility that was exciting (YOUNG BUCK - The Video), I no longer felt the obligation to hold myself accountable.  Same goes for my beard, haircuts, and keeping mad muscles.  

The bigger forces overtook the smaller.  This is weak sauce 101.  I could have done both and all.  But, I choose the less stressful route.  The route that left me some metaphorical jerk-off downtime.  

And, for my own soul, that works better.  Because sometimes a motherfucker just has to sit down in front of the TV, regardless of the pretentious post-academics or over achieving ass-hats that add shame to the game.  

Do what works.  As long as you work.  Your flow triumphs checklists and made up discipline.  But try not to become a weed smoking, video game choking, fast food hoarding, eternal neophyte.  And, even if you do, make sure you go all out, with breaks in-between.  Also, call your mother once a week.     

a goddamn CAT sleeping on a CAR.  Get it?

a goddamn CAT sleeping on a CAR.  Get it?