One Foot In Front of the Other

It's cold outside, but I'll still trek out for a long walk. Being obsessive-compulsive ignites my monkey mind and plays my most neurotic greatest hits like a jukebox that only plays a handful of brittle 45s. It's ok, the simple act of taking a long walk helps to purge my thoughts.

I don't drive. My G-1 expired last September and my fear of running over schoolchildren keeps me away from the driver's seat. Besides, buying a car is a lousy investment that I can't afford. Walking is fine. It's always served me well. Walking in silence is good for you, and most people are malnourished when it comes to silence. We spend so much time plugged into The Matrix that we forget how boring activities have simple gifts in store for us. Going for a walk or just sitting and meditating for a few minutes can open your mind to insight and you can solve problems that have been gnawing at you. The mercurial muse might even appear, offering inspiration for a creative project that would lie dormant if you kept wasting time on Instagram. We need larger gaps in our minds in between the bursts of thoughts, the random and the pointless, the distressing and anxiety-inducing, and the reminders of our to-do list.

Sometimes during my strolls, I feel like taking a break by sitting on a park bench but I don't want to get a fine for $900. It's best to keep moving forward anyway.

While walking today, I kept thinking about my novel and why I keep resisting the act of sitting down to work on it. Then I had the idea that I should change my mindset and start thinking of writing it as my job. I'm not allowed to go to my regular job right now, but while I sit at home in solitude, on the government dole, I can take this wealth of free time and treat it like working hours. I can write and write and write. I can create a routine. I can get out of bed in the morning, and get to work. I can take an hour break to go for my walks, and then go back to work. This is my job now. There are no excuses, only petty distractions. My time is valuable or worthless, depending on how I choose to use it. I can emerge from this strange time stronger and with a novel, OR I can come out of this with nothing to show for it except fingers caked in Cheeto dust. It's up to me. To be continued...

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Sit Your Ass Down and Write - Part One

Last year I started writing my first novel. Fast forward to the present and I'm only 50 pages into a very rough first draft. Without going into details, I'll tell you that I have two main characters, two men with extremely different career paths and backgrounds, who nonetheless are very close friends. One is in his mid-30s and the other is around 50. It's a big brother/little brother relationship. It's a "bromance", a road story where a vintage muscle car serves as their chariot through a long, strange trip through the open road towards Death Valley, one of the hottest places on earth. That's all I'll tell you about the story, as half baked as it is at the moment. Today I finally came up with a working title, "I'm Driving As Fast As I Can." I may throw that title away, but in the meantime, don't steal it. I came up with it during one of my daily walks through the neighborhood. Now that I think of it, "I'm Driving As Fast...

ANxIETY with a Lower Case 'x".

It's just weather, really. Looking at my emotions as objectively as possible, I can judge them merely as constantly changing bits of energy that come and go, like moving clouds; Why become attached to the clouds? When you ask the average person how they're doing, you know they'll respond with, "I'm good." regardless of the truth. When people asked my father how he was doing he would often respond with, "Sunny with some cloudy periods." The old man could be incredibly astute and honest when it was easier to be banal. I'm pre-disposed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, as well as Asperger's Syndrome. At least they told me so when I was a child. It helps to get a diagnosis for the pervasive anxiety that follows you throughout your life. It rationalizes the irrational. When I was a kid, I experienced distressing, intrusive thoughts. I still do. I once read that the difference between people who have OCD and people who don't is that peopl...

These days

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Andy Speaks

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