Reading

Eat That Frog by Brian Tracy and Hondo by Louis L'Amour.  The one I'm taking a break from this minute is Hondo, because last night I started not enjoying Eat That Frog.  I am well aware that in the matter of things that are good for you, not liking it is where you probably need it to be.  I liked the beginning, I was all about writing down goals and making lists.  I even felt this kind of renaissance return to clarity and brighter days thing in my brain, I felt clearer than I normally do since becoming a night shift zombie.  But then I got to the part where I kept thinking, OHHHH, this is why I'm where I am now.  This is the stuff I shoulda been doing back in my 20's and 30's.  I still know that there were things I couldn't change, and things I wouldn't change even if they made some magic time zone thingie that would enable me to go back where I could change. I resisted cell phones for a long time, let me tell you, I am NEVER going to use any magic time zone changer thing.

So I'm reading Louis L'Amour for the first time in my life, because a "western" novel didn't ever really appeal to me before (except Larry McMurtry, lovvvvveeee any and all McMurtry) and they always looked kind of skinny and a little cheesy to me.  And they are simple, but I'm digging it.

Uh, huh.  Writing more often was on one of those lists, but the BIG UGLY frog is still lying by my feet.  I'll get it done, just not first, and now I'm feeling guilty about it. Be careful with reading those darn self help books.

Post script, maybe 2 hours later: I ate tonights ugly frog, OK.  And no, I don't feel better.