Inside the Mind of a Nathan

Hashtag winning! I don't know why I said that. I guess I'm excited. I joined a webinar where a lady taught about making webinars, which is my next big objective. A dear friend named Ree was the encouraging lady who first gave me that grand idea. It makes perfect sense, but, when you're trying to adjust just about every dial in your life, some wonderful opportunities get missed. The webinar was obviously selling a webinar-help package, but there was still so much juicy advice already for free!

I only have a few minutes until I must be going, and I really would much prefer writing a story, but I can't write for Meadowvale, and Michael has started to take on a proper plot. I almost want to write about Allaria of The Menagerie . Honestly, I want to write about them all: Uelken , Xeif , and  Kaz  (though I think those three are the same man), Allaria of course, the dragon wakening , and so many more!

Well, poop on a scoop: things cost money! Car repairs, man: sheesh. In other news, I recently burned a book. I was trying to read The Name of the Rose ; really I was. I think I had been trudging through that novel for over a year. I started to fear my love of reading had dried up or at least grown weary; I really couldn't understand why a single book would take me so long. Then, one chilly day, the 10th of March, I decided to set a lot of things on fire—including a tree and that book. Since then (in under three weeks), I have read four books and am well into a fifth!

I don't know how to make my email work! I got a url for my business: rudolphstrategies.com . I'm just trying to set up one email, but GoDaddy is like "noooo." As it turns out, I'm not smart enough to establish one email. Sigh. In other news, Rambling has been such a blessing to me. Granted, I don't unleash my deepest, darkest thoughts. Nevertheless, it's been such a grand source of freedom. So many people, too many people say you can't do everything at once—in a blog, as a job, etc. For a time, I thought, "Shoot, I can't do everything at once." Then, I remembered how helpful naysayers are, and now I have to do everything at once. The only concession I'll make is that I have to do one thing at a time instead of concurrently. Still, I'm going to do all the things. You can't stop me. Boom.

I don't know why more people don't have scarves. They're so comfortable, they're so warm, and (in most cases) they're so stylish. I don't know how I lived before scarves. I don't think I did. I think I was dying. In aaaaany case, there's a huge difference between old people and old  people (notice the italics). The former is a person who is numerically old, which is merely a number-line comparison. The latter is a person who has become one or more form of crotchety.

Productivity is such a strange thing—mainly because I can't always remember what I did. In part, I think my memory may be a little wonky. For the most part, however, I think I just move on when I complete a task. Often, I'll be asked, "So what did you do today?" I'll know I did things. There are slots throughout my day that I know were full, but I can't remember all the bits and pieces. And then I feel embarrassed because I make my own schedule, and, if I can't remember exactly what I did, I probably didn't do enough, and then I'm wasting my time, and my business is failing! It's not even remotely that bad, but I like to panic. It seems that a lot of people like to panic. I don't know why we're so fond of it. There are solutions galore if you slow down and look for them.

I can never write enough! Seriously. Even when I don't want to write, it's only because I don't want to write for Michael or Meadowvale, but I feel guilty about trying to excuse anything else. It was charming: I was having lunch with my old boss yesterday. He was telling me about his business, his family, a book he's reading, etc. I got to tell him about my little business, my extracurricular activities, and some of my stories (especially my elemental series!). He exclaimed, "You're so creative. You have more creativity in your little finger than I have in my whole body." It was very kind of him to say that.

Fortunately and unfortunately, Michael has started to take on a shape. I still want to use his story as an exercise of freedom, but logic is trying so hard to take hold of it. It's not exactly bad, but it makes me think too hard. I think his story has great promise and could be used for something lucrative someday, but I really didn't want it to be a proper craft. I really wanted it to be like an extension of rambling. I wanted it to be a deeper expression in the form of fiction. Sure enough, each chapter has been eerily reminiscent of pieces of my life, and I'm starting to lose track of when my life forms the story or when the story forms my life.

As it turns out, the world is still too big, and I am just this guy. It's both frustrating and encouraging to see how poorly I control my emotions. Frustrating only in the sense that everyone pretends they can control their emotions, so I feel like I should be able to too. Encouraging because I'm realizing that control should not be preventative; rather, it should guide.

Holy snapola! Not today, but, some day, I shall have to teach you of the scientific method. Honestly, I think I'm going to have to write a book about it. A bit of a preface though: there is much talk about "science" and how it "proves" things. First of all, proof  only exists if you are making presuppositions. (If you can recall geometry  proofs , you needed "givens.") Science never proves; it only provides supporting evidence. Next, science requires the scientific method—not just a hodgepodge of bold claims and sensitive emotions. Not last but quite possibly most important, scientific results need to be repeatable. Otherwise, it doesn't even count as supporting evidence.

Dang it. I was distracting myself with useless memes when some self-respecting-looking bloke sits next to me, so I have to pretend like I'm useful too. Srsly. In other news, distractions are tough, but that's why I have Rambling . A dear friend was asking me how my writing has developed over the years. One of the most striking turning points was when I started Rambling . A bloke named Ericsson said any person who practices any skill for 10,000 hours will become an expert at it. That is easily disproved, but there is an undeniable correlation between frequent practice and noticeable improvement.

Too many distractions. Also, I'm obsessive. This is good when I have plenty to do as it keeps me focused. This is bad when I don't have enough to do as it turns me manic. You should try it sometime. I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. I actually made a point of shifting to the left side of my bed last night because I wanted to see if it changed my sleep. I feel like I was soundly unconscious for a longer time, but I woke up feeling disoriented and anxious. When I sat down to work, I felt so unmotivated. I started some brainless tasks, which built some momentum.

Oh snap! The world is wild, and so am I. It happened again: Sunday, I despaired. Monday, I was hopeful. Today, I am filled with a weird kind of excitement determination. Like I said, my emotions swing all over the place. I haven't learned how to control them, but I am learning how to stay on the path while my heart thrashes about. I'm looking forward to writing about my water elementals. I'm looking forward to writing so many stories. First, I have to establish Rudolph Strategies . Then, I can write full force.

I've been working with a few gentlemen toward the end of establishing a youth group. We have very few kids in our church, so we're collaborating with a number of other churches to provide a place where all our kids can come together and play, eat, learn, and get to know Christ. I invited one of our youth leaders (we'll call him Bob) to host the chat for this coming youth group since our main guy will be out of the country that weekend. At first, Bob was politely reluctant. Eventually, he shared that he has a lot of academic responsibilities that would make it difficult to prepare for youth group.

Well, bloody. I'm not sure what God is trying to teach me, but I'm not quite a fan of it. And then I read this: "For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it" (Hebrews 12:11). I hope there's not much more to be gained from my current predicament; I am quite ready to move on.

Who is +1-ing my things?! It's a mystery. In other news, it was practically spring earlier this week. Now, it's snowing. If global warming is as severe as some report, bring it on. I kinda like catastrophic solutions. If the sun burns us all, well there ya go. But, if Waterworld becomes a thing, I may still get a chance to be a proper pirate. I've only been on the ocean a few times—and I never had any real boat responsibilities—but I love the water, the waves, the salt, the air, the freedom. I don't know where I belong. Sometimes, I belong in latin dancing. Sometimes, I belong on the ocean. Sometimes, I belong in the future as a cyborg. I think that's why I'm writing Michael: he belongs everywhere, and, because of that, he belongs nowhere. But he can still travel anywhere; he can still thrive anywhere.

I don't have much time because I want to write some literature, but I needed to do a warmup since my focus is a bit unfocused.

Sometimes, I really do feel crazy. Did you see the movie Gladiator? At one point, Commodus, the insane emperor, says, "All my desires are splitting my head to pieces." I don't think I'm quite as insane as he was, but my head does often feel split to pieces.