Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Who is Going to Wipe My Bottom?

Habits of mind
lead to static strain.
Dynamic surrender
leads to perception of the love medium.
The love medium is only
another superimposition.

We've got the market cornered on Free and Clear baby wipes over here.  We get 'em delivered monthly from Amazon, but our last shipment didn't arrive on time, so I bought some more at the store.  Then I went from the store to the Post Office to pick up some packages being held for us there.  Turns out the wipes were one of the packages.  They used to come via UPS.  UPS tries to deliver packages to our house.  They ring our buzzer.  The Post Office never rings our buzzer.  Instead we get these salmon colored slips that say, "Sorry we missed you."  Are you sorry?  Are you really?

While I was at the Post Office, I mailed off a story to Santa Monica Review.  No, I did not send out my collection today, and I have not sent it anywhere in over a month.  I have stalled in this regard.  I began to fear that the collection didn't have enough stories, and now, on the recommendation of some trusted advisors, I'm preparing a longer manuscript that contains most of my finished stories.

I find this terrifying.

I'm going to do it, though.  I'm going to do it even though I'm sure someone is going to pop out of nowhere and and yell at me.  This is my fear every time I take a chance, and this is why I hold on so long.

But I need to stop.  I have to stop tweaking and fiddling and adjusting.  It may not be your problem--for all I know you may send out emails without even proofreading, you crazy asshole--but I'm not like that.  I'd like to be a little more like that.

Good luck, all of you out there who are pushing back against your fears.  I'm not going to give you any advice.  I can barely keep it together over here myself.

The Fearless G vs. Tummy Time


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