I have a standing bet going on with the Airman that the Giants won't repeat the World Series and its championship this year. He'll probably win--I'll be short two micheladas in September.
But it's not September yet.
Meantime, I'm learning how to push myself. You're only as good as the last thing you write, or the last thing you do. (Looking at the Giants as of this writing on Wednesday, that's not hard to beat--Mad Bum? Really? Eight runs in the first inning?) So I'm learning how to write the short fiction better, do the in-between hikes around the block to stay fit, enjoy the art better, eat better.
So far I'm succeeding. Am I shooting for being the best? Well...
Taking myself off Facebook has helped. Not comparing myself to people who are nothing like me helps. And I'm getting much better at being me.
Which is what I wanted the whole time anyway.
Onward, dear reader.
P.S. - This is where the title of today's Life For Rent comes from. I'm a hidden diva, what can I say.
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