You probably don’t know this about me, but I’m an all-or-nothing sort of fella. I get an idea in my head — a project, a goal, whatever — and I spend every free second doing it. I’m either totally on or I can’t make myself give any shits at all. I’m pretty sure I’ve always been that way, or at least for as long as I can remember.
This hauling ass mentality of mine can be awesome when I need it to be. For instance, there was the time I lost an ass-ton of weight just because I decided to do it. See, after I got out of the Army I decided to do nothing for a while, eat whatever I wanted, and grow a lumberjack beard just because I didn’t have The Man telling me I had to wake up at 4:00 AM and shave every day. As a result of my post-Army philosophy I packed on about 90 pounds of extra fluff (a.k.a. a massive gut and man-boobs) and picked up a textbook case of acute high blood pressure. Then one day an idea popped into my head. I wanted to lose weight.
So I did. I cut my calories down to normal human standards. I started running on the regular. Stairs and hills became my BFF’s. I cranked out pushups and body squats and every other painful body movement I’d ever learned during all those o’dark thirty Army workouts. In six months I’d dropped the extra LB’s like they were nothing. And I did it on my own. No personal trainers or workout tapes or informercial gimmicks. Just me, some running shoes, and a brain that called me dirty names every time I wanted to quit. A perfect example of what an all-or-nothing mentality is capable of.
But man oh man is there ever a downside. See, even though I can totally kick ass at something once I put my energy into it, I can only kick ass at one thing at a time.
And that’s where writing comes in. A while ago I decided I was going to write, knowing that meant I was going to turn into a total obsessive nutjob and do nothing but write. It was going great too, until the great big universe lobbed a monkey wrench into the writing machine.
I’ll tell you all about that later though.