The Calender

My calender is whipping me like a 18th century Presbyterian school master whips a truant boy - hard, cruelly, and with a hint of homo-erotic glee.

Things are piling up.

The way I've chosen to structure my income, much of it is contingent upon me doing something. If I don't get something written or cause people to want to invest with me, the money stops. If I'd stuck with some corporate job I could so months (I've seen it happen) - or maybe years - of doing nothing but coming up with "goals" and "mission statements" and the paychecks would keep coming. The key in the corporate worlds seems to be just to stay out of HR's gun sites and wait for your position to be eliminated or transferred.

So now I have to do things that cause my phone to ring. There's a certain gerbil on a treadmill quality to it. A day off is money lost. At some point that I can just now start to see in the not-too-distant future, the treadmill will run itself and with nothing but a little care, the money will flow. Until then, I have to put on my track shoes.

Stay You.
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