Most of it was spent cleaning and packing up my house. That was a lot. I lived there for 11 years, the longest place I’d ever lived in my life. I threw away countless bags of trash, of life debris and clutter. ⛸
After all my moaning my 2018 diaries book is now ready to be put in your shopping carts. If you have an unfulfilled diaries magazine subscription don’t buy the book. Your paperback will be in the mail soon.
The ones available here on the site are autographed, too. Paperback and Kindle editions are available on Amazon, non-autographed of course.
You should buy my book. And then tell your friends about it. And share it on social media, as you do. And then leave an Amazon review. I know that’s asking a lot but it would mean the world to me and I’d be eternally grateful. 💙 Sharing and reviews really do help.
It’d be really cool if I could just do my writing (both spiritual and ridiculous) and earn a living doing such. As it is now, I do both when I have time. I hate making room for those things that are truly important. I just want to do those things that absolutely make truly my heart sing all the fucking time.
I have at least 15 pieces that I’ve started writing but haven’t had the chance to finish. I have to feel what I’m writing or else the words come across like a piece of shit. And the writing zone isn’t something I can just turn on when I have 15 minutes to spare.
And then I have at least 50 podcast episodes I could record but again, I have to be in the mood. Otherwise the words come out of my mouth like I’m an uncaring automaton.
When somebody is being over-the-top nice after they’ve fucked something up.
Do you know what I really like?
When someone offers up a sincere apology and then gets on with the day.
Own it. Regret it. Forget it.
Take five minutes, have a real conversation, and then go back to regular life.
If I don’t acknowledge I can come across like an unsympathetic magician. Trying to trick you into paying attention to my magic rabbit and hat. All the while my other hand is holding a bloody knife. I’m not fooling anyone.
And then if I’m dancing around like an out-of-the-ordinary, out-of-control ballerina with an obviously fabricated sugary song and dance, it only makes whatever transgression worse. It prolongs the distress.
Elaine said to me seven years ago, “…and don’t grovel.”
I get “wanting to make it better” with flowers from up my sleeve and I’m sure I’ve tried to pull rosy ruses myself. But keep it to a minimum. Otherwise it’s a black reminder. The fuck up lingers like a red rubber band, stretching the hurt out for way longer than it needs to.
Humility. Brevity. Authenticity. I won’t go wrong with these.
A few months back I started keeping track of where my podcast listeners are geographically located.
Hold up privacy nuts: this is only for my nefarious and amusement purposes. I’m not selling anybody’s locale data.
So anyways, doing what you do when you’re me, I mapped them out last night and am now sharing said map with you. I do enjoy seeing how wide spread my listeners are. I was also interested to learn that there are a few Facebook employees listening in various states across the U.S.
Now then… if this is the first you’ve heard of my podcast don’t worry, you’re not too late. Open up your nearest podcast app and plug “tcr diaries podcast” into the search bar. If your app doesn’t have a search bar then it sucks. Get a different one.
If you have Amazon’s Alexa at home it’s even easier! Say to her, “Alexa play the tcr diaries podcast” and boom, you’re done.