Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of December 10, 2017
• Broken tea bags in your teacup are as bad as putting on a wet bathing suit.
• Eating Panda Express is a lot like suicide: It seems like the right thing to do in the moment but the results are always devastating.
• My mentor, John Irsfeld, would say that there’s no such thing as writer’s block. That if you can’t write it’s because you have nothing to say. I used to believe that. But lately, I’m not so sure. I think my problem is that I’m all bound up with too much to say and I haven’t yet figured out how to plunge through the clog.
• The best way to plunge through a writer’s clog is to just fucking write. Goddammit, Himmel. And that’s exactly what Irsfeld would say.
• What kind of movie has the band Aqua as its soundtrack? I want to write that movie.
• I have two weeks left at my current job. While the prospect of not knowing with absolute certainty where I’m going to pull paychecks from or how much I’m going to earn regularly come 2018 is daunting, I cannot fucking wait to be done with this place. It’s a bad scene and I just want to jump ship and swim for shore—some deserted island will do. But if I stick it out for these next two weeks, I’ll get that last paycheck and a measly bonus. And it’s not that I’m a total whore for money, it’s that it’s always best to bank it when you can. Daddy has habits. And rent. And a fucking kid on the way.
