When you are trying to break an addiction, we usually advise that you take one day at a time. I find that now that I'm beginning my tenth week of self-quarantine, one day seems pretty much like the last one.
In the morning, the water boils while I take my shower, shave, and brush my teeth. Then I pour the water into the press to steep while I make the bed. Then it's on the computer for the news. After I plow through my Email, I read Urban Milwaukee, NYT, The Guardian, BBC Online, and move onto Facebook.
Occasionally, I peek at Instagram and Twitter. I avoid prolonged exposure to twitter because I end up angry and discouraged. So much so that I can get sucked into the war with the trolls. (By becoming one of them in the process.)
I ran out of patience the other day when I ran into a video of series for videos featuring people harassing a reporter who was wearing a mask and two women deliberately coughing into the faces of people in stores who were asking them to wear a mask.
I'm not usually a violent person because I've worked my entire life to control my worse instincts, and I'm successful more often than not. However, I would caution anyone not to cough in my face to express your belief that the COVID 19 is a hoax and that I'm foolish to believe it. When I see something like this, my opposition to concealed carry is challenged. But I digress.
Somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00 am I finished consuming my version of breaking news. After I do my exercises, I usually turn to my new COVID 19 attempt at learning something new. I've taken up pencil sketching and watercolor painting. Lately, I have a couple of pieces in process in both mediums. With these choices, I can amuse myself for an hour and a half or so. Sometimes I work on one type in the morning and another in the afternoon.
I also have gotten back into meditation. I've done this for many years, but I needed to learn to do it daily again. It's amazing how twenty minutes of practice makes such a difference.
I write fiction on an open-ended time basis. I write from a stream of consciousness, meaning I write whatever comes to mind. Some days it's fine for an hour or two. Other days, I have to force myself to quit. You will often hear writers talk about their characters talking to them? Sometimes my characters are more insistent on getting attention than a crying child. Enough said.
If I'm writing a column, I'm more structured in my approach. I am an apostle of the process of mise en place. (Getting everything you need for a project and putting in an accessible place. If you work in a commercial kitchen you learn this by osmosis if not direct instruction.) I like to get all of my interview notes and research together. I've outlined what I want to write in my head, so it's a matter of filling in the blanks, editing and submitting. I usually write this blog and any article I'm doing days in advance of the deadline. I will reread and revise it three or four times before anyone sees it.
I walk almost every day. I can take any number of routes, so I do not see the same thing every day. One or twice a week, I walk to the grocery store.
What I don't do is take The HOP or a bus to meetings or just socializing with friends. What I try to do is to call family, friends, and attend Zoom meetings to stay in touch. I don't schedule face to face interviews for my column, attend the theater, watch movies or tour museum exhibits.
In the evening, I read, watch Rachel Maddow and some entertainment TV. My small screen habit is mostly streaming TV shows and movies. As I've shared in previous posts, I'm watching a lot of foreign productions. My trip around the globe includes Iceland, Scandinavia, Britain, Ireland, France, Spain, Isreal, New Zeland, and Australia. Right now, I'm really heavy into Australian and New Zealand shows.
Ten O'Clock. I'm in bed, and it's wash rinse and repeat the next day. The difference is when I clean the apartment, do the laundry, or go to the grocery store.
I hear the late-night comic's teasing about trying to remember what day it is. Last week on Friday evening. I missed attending the Friday night, St. Mark's film club meeting. It's a delightful Zoom hour spent sharing our views about the movie our guru, John Hicky, has assigned. I missed it because I forgot it was Friday.
On the other hand, I don't feel like time is going by slowly. Quite the opposite, really. I look at my dirty clothes basket, and I have to double-check my calendar. It can't be time to do laundry already, can it?
In the morning, the water boils while I take my shower, shave, and brush my teeth. Then I pour the water into the press to steep while I make the bed. Then it's on the computer for the news. After I plow through my Email, I read Urban Milwaukee, NYT, The Guardian, BBC Online, and move onto Facebook.
Occasionally, I peek at Instagram and Twitter. I avoid prolonged exposure to twitter because I end up angry and discouraged. So much so that I can get sucked into the war with the trolls. (By becoming one of them in the process.)
I ran out of patience the other day when I ran into a video of series for videos featuring people harassing a reporter who was wearing a mask and two women deliberately coughing into the faces of people in stores who were asking them to wear a mask.
I'm not usually a violent person because I've worked my entire life to control my worse instincts, and I'm successful more often than not. However, I would caution anyone not to cough in my face to express your belief that the COVID 19 is a hoax and that I'm foolish to believe it. When I see something like this, my opposition to concealed carry is challenged. But I digress.
Somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00 am I finished consuming my version of breaking news. After I do my exercises, I usually turn to my new COVID 19 attempt at learning something new. I've taken up pencil sketching and watercolor painting. Lately, I have a couple of pieces in process in both mediums. With these choices, I can amuse myself for an hour and a half or so. Sometimes I work on one type in the morning and another in the afternoon.
I also have gotten back into meditation. I've done this for many years, but I needed to learn to do it daily again. It's amazing how twenty minutes of practice makes such a difference.
I write fiction on an open-ended time basis. I write from a stream of consciousness, meaning I write whatever comes to mind. Some days it's fine for an hour or two. Other days, I have to force myself to quit. You will often hear writers talk about their characters talking to them? Sometimes my characters are more insistent on getting attention than a crying child. Enough said.
If I'm writing a column, I'm more structured in my approach. I am an apostle of the process of mise en place. (Getting everything you need for a project and putting in an accessible place. If you work in a commercial kitchen you learn this by osmosis if not direct instruction.) I like to get all of my interview notes and research together. I've outlined what I want to write in my head, so it's a matter of filling in the blanks, editing and submitting. I usually write this blog and any article I'm doing days in advance of the deadline. I will reread and revise it three or four times before anyone sees it.
I walk almost every day. I can take any number of routes, so I do not see the same thing every day. One or twice a week, I walk to the grocery store.
What I don't do is take The HOP or a bus to meetings or just socializing with friends. What I try to do is to call family, friends, and attend Zoom meetings to stay in touch. I don't schedule face to face interviews for my column, attend the theater, watch movies or tour museum exhibits.
In the evening, I read, watch Rachel Maddow and some entertainment TV. My small screen habit is mostly streaming TV shows and movies. As I've shared in previous posts, I'm watching a lot of foreign productions. My trip around the globe includes Iceland, Scandinavia, Britain, Ireland, France, Spain, Isreal, New Zeland, and Australia. Right now, I'm really heavy into Australian and New Zealand shows.
Ten O'Clock. I'm in bed, and it's wash rinse and repeat the next day. The difference is when I clean the apartment, do the laundry, or go to the grocery store.
I hear the late-night comic's teasing about trying to remember what day it is. Last week on Friday evening. I missed attending the Friday night, St. Mark's film club meeting. It's a delightful Zoom hour spent sharing our views about the movie our guru, John Hicky, has assigned. I missed it because I forgot it was Friday.
On the other hand, I don't feel like time is going by slowly. Quite the opposite, really. I look at my dirty clothes basket, and I have to double-check my calendar. It can't be time to do laundry already, can it?
Well said. I've stopped wearing a watch because, really, what's the point?
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