A Year Off

I've been officially retired one year, and all I have to show for it, really, is another ten pounds.  I am up to 230 pounds, and I hate it.

That's not to say I've done nothing in a year. I became Bracken's music instructor and drum major, and by all accounts (from Bracken people and from outsiders) I'm doing a great job of it. they all seem to love me, and respect me, and love me more. I even had a judge grab me after a performance to tell me that I have done amazing things with the corps. I felt kind of chuffed about that.

I've failed to teach the puppy to walk on a leash. I may have to get lessons on that.

 But I'm still holding my own in Blessed Sacrament, and I didn't fail too badly playing with "The Cruisers," for Blue Rock.

And I'm putting my writing back into a priority zone. Even attended a Lunacon and had a ball and met some wonderful people there. I had hoped to be done my novel already, but at least I am proud of what I've written so far.






But Jack is telling me I have to stop spending any money. Any at all. Or else go out and get a job.  I've thought about it, and I'm not happy about it. But what I need to do is spend more days writing, and get some things sold.

If I could only get past this depression. I'm pissed at myself for wasting hundreds of dollars NOT going to my gym. Do I quit the gym, and keep the extra $100 a month? Or force myself to go and get something accomplished?