I watched the Social Network on Saturday, watched the first scene a few times yesterday, watched the last of my Drama students perform the scene in class today, and finally showed the scene to the class. We ran out of time before I had a chance to really talk about it, which I’m still really sad about, but the point of all this is that I’m having fun thinking about what I want to talk about. It’s surfacing many many memories from college, which have made me super nostalgic, but also grateful that I was able to get the best film school education at the best film school in the world.

I love stories. I love reading stories and watching them on a screen. I love telling stories, and I love writing them. Writing is my craft, and I love it so very much. I’ve transcribed the Great Gatsby, and I’m more than half way through transcribing A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. I write in the morning, I write after my workout, I write after dinner, and I write some more right after that. I’m so very passionate about this stuff, about this craft, that I really don’t want to do anything else. I don’t care about being a Renaissance man, even though I did for a long time (maybe I still do a little bit). I’m a writer. That’s who I am, and I love it.

One thing I’ve noticed is that I get pretty sad on Sundays, and I get sad on Sundays because I don’t work out on Sundays. I just performed a very very tough Insanity workout, and even though I was close to vomiting during it, I feel fucking amazing right now as I’m recovering and lying in bed. Those pesky endorphins — I need them. I need them so much to be happy it’s insane (see what I did there?). I feel so much better after a good workout, and my writing is so much happier after a good workout that I’m considering doing something on Sundays — something physical — just to see what kind of mood I’m in when it’s time to write. It’s an experiment that I think will bear fruit if I actually do something and not lie in bed all day wondering where my day went.

This is my last week of this hybrid workout. I can’t believe I actually made it. I guess I really didn’t have any doubt I would, per se, but it’s always great to realize when you’ve accomplished one of your goals. Next week I’m going to restart the Max: 30 workout from Insanity, which should be fun and much much shorter than these hybrid workouts were. Did I mention how much I enjoy taking my shirt off? I’m like: who is that sexy man? Oh, that’s me. That’s fucking me. I’m this writer who’s almost done with his second novel and almost done transcribing his second great novel and who has done over 200 days of Insanity and is voluntarily going to do another 60, and he has this blog where he’s been updating for 232 consecutive days. You best believe, bitches.