Defunct

I just stepped out of the shower.

I took my multivitamin for the day.

I had a good workout in my ever-improving home gym.  Strict, Klokov, and bench presses for the lift.  If you must know.

I’m on my last 16 ounces of water for the day.

My entire food intake has been Paleo.

So we swore that we’d never do it again, but my wife and I ended up back on the Whole Life Challenge.  It started on 17 January, and runs for 8 weeks.  Working out every day, eating clean, and doing all those little personal maintenance things that people don’t have time for.  This time around, we expect it will be a little easier.  I have already put the kibosh on drinking, so no change there.  The home workouts will be much more effective with the addition of all my Rogue Fitness gear.  We got a couple of huge fucking lunchboxes.  And so on.  We are ready.

I know it’s been a long time since I put anything online.  I thought about trying to start fresh at the turn of the new year.  I started couple of short essays, I tried to pick a new name, and I started stretching those mental muscles that I left dormant for so long.  I still fancy myself having a respectable vocabulary.  Power not used is not power, though.  So maybe all this self-improvement that I’m doing could include a little more time at the keyboard…

This is not a promise.

My idea factory has been mothballed.  Do I have anything left?  Every once in a while I’ll think of something that would make a good story, but it’s always an expansion on someone else’s intellectual property.  Fanfic.  Head-canon.  Ideas that aren’t my own, but that I would add to in order to fit my own tastes better.

I’m running into a problem in my life that may or may not be a sign of age/maturity.  The things I want to buy don’t exist.  New shoes suck.  New cars suck.  New everything sucks.  Not that any of these things are inherently bad, but of the available features, the exact combination I want just doesn’t exist.  So too, it is with stories.  Being original is hard work.  Doing it on your own is hard work.  Maybe I need help.  Or maybe I just need to quit my bitching, and remember what it’s like to dream.

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