The unfortunate truth is that I actually forget to do half of what's on my to do list for each day. Documentation for me has always been merely another chore - that, and the miniature, yet often too large for it's own good, pessimist inside would rather experience it and hold it as a faded memory in the ever present possible event that I fall while hurdling the obstructions in the road.
That, and I'm not sure if I'm prepared for anyone to get the entire story.
In this public display of my mental sorting I find it truly ironic in every aspect of the word that I, in a way, have become more guarded. Now that is a mind fuck.
Early this week I began to trough - I've discovered a direct relationship between my emotional well being and fatigue (no shit). Only now though have I become better aware at how to balance it.
Solution: I haven't done fuck this week.
Result: I'm ready to hit the pavement again.
Time is flying, the weeks are passing by like I am standing on the median of a four lane highway while freshly into the first few seconds of a DMT trip... or something.
Contained excitement, a touch of fear, brute force, and the shotgun method to success. Something is bound to happen.