2015…BRING IT!

Happy New Year fabulous people!!

Sorry I was MIA for a bit. I was stuck in a funk but I’m done being funky.

Rejection is the suckiest of all suckishness. My finalist #PITCHARAMA status is officially over. The editor who was interested in JESSICA MARCO PI has passed on the project. There, I’ve said it. I was sad. I was distressed. There was a day or two of immature pouting, kicking, rolling around on the floor. It wasn’t pretty. I’m over it. Overall, it was a really GREAT experience. The editor, Katie Teller at Curiosity Quills, was helpful in getting the book into the shape that it’s in. Now I just need to find the agent/editor that it is right for. Although this project wasn’t right for Katie, I would definitely submit to her again . If you’ve got a story, hit her up. She’s super cool.

Don’t go feeling sorry for me. This is the game I’ve chosen. It’s just part of the process and I learn from every experience, even the ones I don’t particularly like.

Let’s move on! *fist in the air. feet marching*

While I’ve been away the holidays came and went… Happy Happy, Merry Merry EVERYTHING! (((Hugs Abound)))

I spent some great time with friends and family– eating, drinking, watched awesome movies, read fricktastic books, spent a day at the zoo, and visited an indoor trampoline park TWICE! I have no pictures of the amazing back-flips I did without killing myself or any small children in my vicinity– you will just have to take my word for it.

Some of my writer friends are choosing a word for inspiration in 2015 instead of resolutions. Cool with me. I pretty much have the same resolution every year: Be a better me. If I’m a better me, hopefully I’ll inspire you to be a better you. Better me. Better you. Better world. Simple.

Back to my word problem. What word will I choose? Oh, the pressure *back of hand to forehead* Good Lord there’s so many! Triskaidekaphobia? Not a great choice for inspiration since it’s the fear of the number 13. I don’t want the fear of anything. Fear is a real friger!

Fear can frig up the best of plans.

“I want to draw but I’m afraid no one will like it.”

“I want to take a dance class but I’m afraid I’ll look silly.”

“I want to talk to that person I think is da bomb but I’m afraid they won’t like me.”

“I want to write a book but I’m afraid I’ll suck.”

Before even trying, fear can beat you into nothingness. I don’t know about you, but I’ll pass on nothingness. I want to be lots of somethingness. I’ll get back to this.

I want to share some of the books I read.

The first is called Finding Out by Sheryn MacMunn. I had the pleasure of having tea with Sheryn, who is a self-published author, and has had huge success with this debut novel. It’s a story about a young woman in the corporate world whose life falls apart and gets help putting herself back together from her neighbor, a Holocaust survivor. Sheryn marries two very different stories in a cohesive interesting tale that I really enjoyed. She shows how the human spirit can endure and overcome just about anything. I personally find the spirit to be an amazing thing and love to read stories that show that. Check her out at sherynmacmunn.com.

Another book I read is Because of Low by Abbi Glines. I was especially interested in reading this book because it is in the New Adult genre just like my JESSICA MARCO PI and because I heard Abbi speak at the NYC 2014 SCBWI conference. LOVE her! It’s a romance with a great backbone. What do I mean by that? It’s not all about sex. It’s a great story about overcoming some crappy life circumstances told from the POV of the two main characters. Again, it’s that human spirit, that amazing power we all have to overcome. Abbi uses two very distinct voices so you see it clearly from each angle. She even had me sympathizing with the jerk in the story! Find her at abbiglines.com.

And the last book is called Every Day by one of my favs, David Levithan. LOVE! Imagine waking up everyday in a different body. You are always the same age but some days you’re a girl, others a boy. You have no control over who you land in whether they be obese, a drug addict, gay, straight or suicidal. Totally about the spirit of each of us who is really who we are anyway. The body is just a vehicle. It’s like a car for the soul. Trippy right? This book is awesome! For me this is what writing fiction is all about. Being able to step into the shoes of a character and bring you along for the ride. Did I mention LOVE? David has way too many other books for me to mention the love for, so go to davidlevethan.com. Be in awe. Come back when you’re done…. I’ll be here.

Welcome back!

So. My word for 2015? You probably guessed it-

FEARLESS

Fear is the stop before I start. Fear is paralyzing. Fear is anxiety producing. Fear of failing will keep me from ever being published. Not havin it. Don’t have time for it.

Are there an abundant amount of things to be afraid of? Hell yeah, just watch the news for five minutes. Will my worrying about any of it help at all? No. Am I telling you not to be afraid of anything? No. As my mother always said, “a little fear will keep you safe.” If you’re in a house that’s on fire– RUN! There’s a difference from being fearless and being stupid. Don’t be stupid. All you stupid people should be reading some other blog. Everyone else… Be fearless with me in 2015!

Until later this month,

PEACE, LOVE, AND A FEARLESS 2015.

 

 

Nopesville & NaNoWriMo

Welcome to Nopesville! I have been living here in Nopesville for the past week or so. When things are overwhelming I tend to look at them and say, “Nope, nah-uh, nope, nope, nope.” I’m usually saying this as I’m backing away from the thing I’m nope-ing. Nopesville is the next town over from Sucksville. The difference is that when in Sucksville things, well, suck. When in Nopesville there’s a chance that you’ll be okay even though it’s a place filled with anxiety, too much candy eating (the real cheap shitty kind), buckets of self-doubt and some seriously foul language. When I’m nope-ing I’m usually M-Fing too. The trick is to figure out why you’re in Nopesville to begin with.

This all brings me to NaNoWriMo, which all my writer friends know means Nation Novel Writing Month. It’s like the super bowl of writing that happens every November. The goal is to write a novel, 50,000 words, in one month. I have two things to say about it.

1) I’m a HUGE advocate for this challenge. The writing community comes out in full force both with creativity and support for fellow writers.

2) I’m not doing it.

By saying that, I may have just committed author suicide but I have to tell the truth. This year’s contemplation of NaNo sent me twitching to Nopesville breathing deeply into a brown paper bag. My internal alarm was screaming, “Run, you stupid ass, run!” But instead I got caught up in reading all the Twitter feeds about what other people are doing and how well they’re doing it which left me crying into a hunk of chocolate cake wondering why I suck so bad and wishing I could unfreeze my thoughts and fingers and jump on board. Seriously, my entire body was locked up.

I thought, what the frig is my problem, aside from general nutbag-ged-ness, which is my norm. I mean, I’m a writer, I write. So what’s wrong with me? But then it hit me.
I’m 20,000 words into my new YA Futuristic/Light SciFi/Contemporary. Say that shit five times fast! I’m lovin’ this new story. I’ll give you a little peak— four scientists create a society made up of same sex pairs, babies are no longer born, disease is no longer spread and everything is hunky-dory—until Sky forgets to take her “suppliments” and her rose-colored glasses are shattered forever. The story follows Sky and Raven, a pair of sixteens that find a map leading to the forbidden books; the Old World history.

So my deal is this. If I was going to do NaNo I would have to put this project aside and start a fresh new story for the month of November. Nope, nope, nope, nope. It would be detrimental to my progress right now. So I’ve noped out of NaNo for this year, but not to worry…I am writing my ass off this month just the same.

Good luck to everyone involved in NaNoWriMo! I am cheering for you from Nopesville! LOL

Peace, love and listen to your inner voice…even if she’s calling you a stupid ass. It’s probably for your own good!

Done with Snow? Nervous/Excited about NYC SCBWI Conference? How about a Laugh just for fun!

Hi all. Frickin’ snow. ‘Nuff said. SCBWI NYC Conference *squeee*…Holy Cow, my first!! So excited. So nervous, but that’s just how I roll. I figured out, approaching this conference, that I could use my flaws to help me. There is so much going on in my life and with people I care about that my nuttiness went into overdrive this week. Then yesterday, instead fighting it, I dove in, over the mountains of fear, past the sea of nervousness, through the vise grip of anxiety, above the clouds of perceived impending rejection to a place where I could breathe… and think…and write. I wrote this Adult Contemporary Fiction about a year ago but put it aside for the YA Paranormal Contemporary I’m just now querying. This is exactly what I needed…to laugh out loud! I hope it makes you LOL too…  PEACE OUT!

BODY BAGS/ ADULT CONTEMPORARY/HUMOROUS

CHAPTER 1

     As the rain pelted my face, I wondered why I took this job. Oh, now I remember, because I wanna eat and have somewhere to live. No work equaled no food, no apartment, no cable, no phone, no gas, no nada. I sat with my back against the second floor as lightning cut across the sky and thunder shook my perch on the porch roof. It’s August in Cos Cob, a small town in Connecticut. It had been 98 degrees today, humid to the point of not being able to breathe in the shade, and my long auburn curly hair was showing every bit of it, in frizzy protest. Purple bloated clouds churned in the sky as a storm rolled in and darkness settled quickly around me. When I arrived, I had climbed a tree that overhung the back porch roof and waited in a tight squat position for about an hour for my mark, a cheating husband. My ass was throbbing and my left foot fell asleep about twenty minutes ago.
Dressed in an army green rain poncho I gathered up my bag loaded with my camera, recorder, pepper spray, and stun gun, tucking it underneath me to keep it dry. The camera had night vision capability and the recorder could pick up a dog fart a mile away. The other stuff I kept just in case. Just in case the person I was watching got a hold of me and decided he didn’t want to fess up to what I captured on tape or camera. I’m not a hero or a cop. I’m a private investigator with long legs that I use to run like the wind when necessary. The stun gun or spray would give me a chance to run like hell and call the cops, the real heroes. I had no idea that I would ever be a private investigator. Not to take anything away from the cops, hell I come from a long list of them, but my heroes growing up were Walt Disney, father Mac at our family parish, and whoever wrote the song “Tomorrow” from Little Orphan Annie. Walt Disney created Tinker Bell and I wanted to fly. That put Walt at the top of my list, plain and simple. Unfortunately when I tried to fly off a swing set at age five I broke my arm. I didn’t hold that against good old Walt, but it did put the ki-bosh on the whole flying thing. Father Mac, a Catholic priest, taught me that all Catholics have a get out of jail free card called ‘reconciliation’. Basically whatever you do wrong during the week can be swept away at confession on Saturday afternoon. Of course the catch is you have to be really sorry, and I always am, burdened with a conscience the size of Texas and a strong aversion to the fires of hell. Then there’s the guy who wrote the song ‘Tomorrow’, well that was pretty much my motto, what ever happens today, as crappy as it may be, the sun will come out tomorrow. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that doesn’t always happen, because, shit happens, but I’m always hopeful. Most days I’m just a private investigator trying to be like Walt Disney, spreading smiles everywhere, but usually ending up in confession prayin’ for another tomorrow.
A crack of lightening lit the sky and the rain came down harder. I pulled back trying to become one with the siding and get some cover from the gutter above. The wife on this particular case had contacted my boss, Josephine Carlucci, owner of Carlucci Investigations, last week to set this up. Being a PI was not my life’s ambition. After high school I took some classes at a community college and bounced around in a few dead end jobs not really knowing what I wanted to do with my life. Seriously, who the hell knows at eighteen what they wanna do? So, at twenty-six I sort of fell into private investigating. Jo was hiring, I needed money, and it seemed like a good fit. Jo’s in her forties, five-feet tall, two hundred pounds of robust woman, with a lot of black curly hair and a Minnie Mouse voice. She carries a .38 revolver in her purse that she’s not afraid to use. She’s a pretty good shot, too, unlike myself who carries a .22 handgun and is not so great a shot. If I’m shooting at you, I’ll be aiming for your leg, but more than likely it’s gonna end up in your ass. If you happen to be unlucky enough to be facing me instead of running away, well, you could probably kiss your balls goodbye. I’m working on my marksmanship. I carry a .22 because I don’t actually want to kill anyone, I don’t need your dead soul friggin’ up my karma – thank you very much- but wounding I’m okay with. I’m still not very good at this PI thing but what I don’t have in experience I make up for with common sense and my mother’s temper. The rest? I’m learning as I go and hopefully I won’t get killed in the process.
I checked my watch. One hour and forty-five minutes waiting for this douchbag like a jackass in the rain. PJ Benedillo, the husband in question, was possibly doin’ the neighbor, a college senior with a great body and, if she was doing anything with PJ, not too many smarts. He of course denied any thing was going on, he’d been down this road a bunch of times before. I went to school with most of the people in Cos Cob, including PJ and his wife Nelly who are two years older than me. Nelly’s a simple, no frills kind of gal. Back in the day she was prom-queen beautiful; now, not so much. Not that she was ugly, she looked beaten down, a little overweight, wore no make-up, and hid behind shoulder length blondish brown hair. Everyone knows her husband’s a cheat, but she needs proof. Glad that she finally asked, I jumped at the chance to show her what scum PJ is. Another burst of thunder exploded in the sky and shook my heart in my chest.
“Oh the hell with this.”
I inched up the screen to an open window behind me and climbed in. Nelly had told her husband she had to go away over night for work. She was actually with Jo at the office waiting to hear from me. I was soaked, a puddle instantly formed at my feet as I closed the screen. I pulled off my hood, hefted my bag on my shoulder and started to walk down the hallway looking for the stairs down to the first floor, my sneakers squishing as I went. Soft moaning came from someplace in front of me. Damn, how’d I miss them coming in? Cool. Not cool that PJ was the scumbag I thought him to be, but maybe tonight wasn’t a waste of time after all and the sooner Nelly knew the quicker she could kick his ass to the curb and get on with her life. Quietly, I located my camera and looped it over my head. Next I turned on the recorder inside my bag. The house was pitch black. Looking out the front windows I could see all the houses and streetlights were dark. Power outage. The night vision camera looked like binoculars and helped me find my way. I followed the noises that now sounded more like stifled whimpering. A new feeling of apprehension prickled and settled at the back of my neck. My instincts, my ‘oh no you fuckin don’t’ attitude, told me something was wrong. A man’s voice, I recognized as PJ’s, started to get louder. It was coming from my right, the door ajar about an inch.
“Look, I’m going to take the gag off, but no more yelling. Okay?”
I waited holding my breath. Next I heard a woman; a very pissed off woman on the verge of hysteria.
“You mother fucker! Untie me right fucking now!!”
PJ made a tsking sound and continued in a condescending voice.
“Now look here, you’re in no position to be making demands. You can’t tease me like that and then change your mind.”
“The hell I can’t! I never promised you anything! You said you were taking me to dinner. Dinner!” She spit the words out angrily but her voice shook with fear. The thunder crashed and rain hammered against the windows masking the sound of my opening the door a little more. A dim battery-operated lantern was set on the dresser. A young woman was tied to the four-poster bed in only her black bra and underwear. She had a bruise on her left cheek and her eyes were red, brimming with tears yet to fall. I backed up a bit and sent a text to Jo, 911-0. 911 Was for help; the zero meant come in quietly. I didn’t want to spook PJ with sirens blaring and have this situation get any worse. PJ had obviously lost his friggin’ mind. This wasn’t just cheating. I moved back into position at the door and clicked a few pictures.
“You knew this was going to happen between us-
“No I didn’t, you fucking pervert!”
“-you were sending me all the signs, wearing short shorts and low cut tops.”
“That’s not an invitation, you asshole!”
“Then when you stopped at my table last week…
“I was just trying to be friendly, nut bag!”
“-well then I knew you wanted it too,” PJ moaned.
Oh, yeah, PJ had definitely left the reservation and was currently residing in crazy-town. As he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed I realized he was standing in black tight underwear with the words ‘THE MAN’ written in white across his ass. I almost laughed. He was a little pudgy guy with way too much hair, especially by his crotch. The hair escaped in puffs out the leg holes and over the top of the waistband. Vomit came up the back of my throat. He took a few steps towards the bed and I hoped like hell Jo was on the way with the boys in blue. I opened the door a little more and took a few pictures for the cops and Nelly.
“Now look, this can be easy or it can be hard.” He took a moment to stroke himself at the word hard.
Eewah! A shiver of disgust rolled up from my toes and I swallow back the bile that rose in my throat again.
“The choice is yours. But this is gonna happen,” he moaned in a low rasp that was meant to be seductive but sounded just creepy as all hell. The next thing I knew I got a face full of ass as PJ bent at the waist and slid his underwear off to the floor. He straightened and stood with his feet braced apart and his hands on his hips. It was the weirdest thing. He had absolutely no hair on his back or butt. He definitely waxed back there. I took more pictures, afraid no one would believe me.
“I’ll call the cops you freakin sicko!”
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat from where I stood. “That won’t be necessary, they’re on the way,” I said and opened the door the rest of the way. “You probably should get dressed, PJ.”
He turned around to face me. “Oh, hi Jessica, how are you?” He said like he wasn’t standing there bare ass with a woman tied up behind him. Koo-koo! I tried so hard not to look but I couldn’t help it. In the middle of his wild afro-like pubic bush was a tiny uncircumcised penis that looked like a thumb. I squeezed my eyes tight trying to remove the image. Oh, God! It was seared into my brain; I’ll be scared for life.
“Now isn’t really a good time. My girl and I were in the middle of making love.”
“Oh make me gag! That is sooo not what’s going on, lady,” the neighbor said to me.
“Yeah, I know, just sit tight,” I said back to her around PJ’s shoulder.
“Jessica, I don’t know what you think you heard but I can assure you this was a consensual adult act.”
“Bullshit!! You hit me and tied me up!!”
“Come on now, it was just a little foreplay and you loved it.”
Woe. Could he be any crazier?
“PJ?” A small uncertain voice came from behind me.
“Sweet heart! This slut took total advantage of me,” he pointed an accusing finger.
I could not believe the balls on this guy, nor could I see them for that matter.
“Oh puleeze! Will someone untie me?”
“Oh yeah, sorry,” I said and walked over to the bed. I dropped my bag at the foot of the bed and started undoing knots tied with panty hose that held her captive.
“How could you?” Nelly said in a small defeated voice and sank to the floor at PJ’s feet.
“Baby, I promise it’s not what you think,” he said bending at the waist putting a hand on her shoulder. Ugh, again I got an eyeful of some crap I did not want to see. Ever.
“Yes it is, Mrs. Benedillo, he’s a total perv!!”
“Shut up, you whore!” PJ, still naked, took an authoritative stance and tried to explain.
Jo yelled from down stairs, “Cops are on the way, Hun.”
“Good to know, thanks, Jo,” I yelled back and continued untying.
“Now this is ridiculous,” PJ started to say, his hands back on his hips. “Involving the police is totally unnecessary. It’s just all a big misunder eeek!” PJ jerked around, screamed in a high pitch voice, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and down he went in a loud thump on the hardwood floor. I froze. With her hands free, the girl went to the task of freeing her ankles. Nelly stood with my stun gun still in her hands and looked down at the crumpled pile that was her piece of shit husband.
“I’m sorry, what did you say, dear, I couldn’t hear you past all the lies!!” Nelly screamed and she zapped him again right in the crop, which caught on fire revealing he had balls under there after all. His nuts instantly swelled to the size of grapefruits and the fire singed itself out. The room smelt of burnt hair and ball sack. Ugh.
“Oh yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” The young woman leapt from the bed. “You piece of shit! I hope you like it up the ass in prison!” She yelled and kicked him on her way past, grabbing her clothes off the floor and running out the door. I took the stun gun from Nelly.
“I’ve been so stupid,” she said her eyes filling with shameful tears.
“Not stupid, maybe just a little blind.”
She took a deep breath. “Well no more. That ends today.” She brushed the front of her dress off and headed out the door to join the others down stairs.
I’m Jessica Marco, and that right there, is a typical Wednesday night in my life as of late.

Twitching and #Sunvssnow

I’m sitting at the computer waiting for the words to come but they don’t because ten inches of snow fell last night and I have a perpetual twitch in my left eye. I’m not sure if the twitch belongs to the snow or the contest I’ve entered at #sunvssnow on twitter.

The snow gives me anxiety that is connected to my aversion to shoveling. The contest gives me a different kind of anxiety that, if truth be told, I’ve begun to crave like a junkie. You don’t know me so I’ll fill you in. I am NOT a thrill seeker. I crave things like dark chocolate, Sicilian pizza from a tiny place where I grew up, good coffee, time snuggled on the sofa with my love watching a movie, a good run outdoors when the weather is nice and ice cream sundaes; I will plan an entire day around a sundae! I don’t jump out of planes. I don’t do drugs. I don’t dive off bridges with a rubber band attached to my ankles. I don’t cling to the side of a mountain trying to reach the top…or do I?

Now, let’s be forreals, I am not packing a parachute any time soon, I can tell ya that right now.  But I have become a different kind of thrill seeker despite my anxiety and fear. My mountain is a mass of words and thoughts trying to get out on the page faster than I can type. It’s researching the agents I think will be a good fit for me and then praying I don’t get a rejection because quite frankly, rejection sucks. It’s another round of edits while getting the new story started a sentence at a time and working a day job. It’s throwing myself into these contests even though it makes me want to throw up. So what’s happened?

Not gonna lie, not really sure how it happened. It wasn’t like I set forth a plan and then executed it one step at a time. But I say to myself ALL the time; what’s the worst thing that can happen? And the answer is usually not that bad. I do a lot of deep breathing, and I talk myself down from the ledge. In doing that, I have found such an encouraging group of peeps!

Last month when I did the #Pitchwars twitter contest, @brendadrake, I did not get a mentor. BUT one of the mentors I submitted to sent me an email with some great feedback. Michelle Painchaud did not have to do that. I am so grateful that she did. THANK YOU!! There is an unwritten code among the authors I have met about paying-it-forward. I LOVE this! Can you imagine a world where everyone lived by this rule? It would be a huge pot of “awesome sauce!” This is where my new-found junkie-ness comes in.

I crave to be part of this community! I stalk the twitter feed. I follow the blogs. I read the bio’s of all the authors and agents who have committed themselves to the task of reading all the entries in the contest. They don’t have to do this. The pool in which to fish for a new, talented author is unending. But they do it because they have stood in my shoes and walked a mile in this, sometimes, heartbreaking process. Maybe not with the anxiety and major freakouts I have, but still.

So when my friend, @myinnermg, told me about #sunvssnow hosted by authors, Michelle Hauck @Michelle4Laughs and Amy Trueblood @atrueblood5, which I had already been quietly stalking, I of course dove in. It’s kinda like falling in love the first time; I love it! I hate it. It’s awesome! It sucks. I’m thrilled! I’m nauseous. I’m high as a kite! I’m kicking and screaming on the floor. What, your first love wasn’t like that?

As I wait patiently *laughs like a loon* for the results to be posted on Michelle4Laughs blog tomorrow I will have bouts of anxiety that pitch me into brownie eating mode, moments of dreaming about the day Ellen will interview me, time spent not throwing up, witty banter on twitter with my fellow writers, plotting the screenplay for the movie that will follow my book. I dream big otherwise what’s the point?

Win or lose tomorrow, I’ll be chasing down my next fix, because at the end of the day, I can’t wait to pay-it-forward!

Until next time, PEACE

Pitch Wars, NaNo, Anxiety, Oh My!

Wow! What an amazing time of year! No, I’m not just talking about the holidays. But just between you and I, I’ve been secretly listening to Christmas music in my car for the past two weeks while agreeing with everyone who complains that it’s on too early…SORRY!

What I’m really talking about is my first experience with NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, which happened in November. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month. I did not make it to 50K *a tear falls from the eye* Not. I am super proud to say that I made it to 15,000!! I jumped on board two days before it started, inspired by my writer friends, just for the experience. Just thinking about it gave me anxiety but I jumped in anyway. And despite that the computer gods were trying to mess with me by tagging me as a spammer and not letting me access my NaNo account, one month later I have 15k words to the second book (DARKNESS) in my series *happy nerdy dance*. So there’s that.

Then…one of my writing buddies from Shop Talk, (SCBWI Eastern NY writers group…fist pump to my peeps) told me about Pitch Wars hosted by Brenda Drake(@brendadrake/#pitchwars).

It’s an incredible opportunity to be mentored by an author for five weeks who will help polish my manuscript and get it ready to pitch to an agent in the agent round. Thank the Lord *angels sing* that my manuscript is done and ready to roll since I found out about this opportunity two days before it started. Any one see a recurring pattern? Again…anxiety!

Anxiety is a crazy thing. It’s a very illogical response to a non-problem. At least, that’s how it is for me. Really, what’s the worst thing that’s going to happen? I don’t get chosen to work with any of the mentors I picked. Now, don’t get me wrong, that will suck the big whale size wiener. But I won’t die from it, I won’t get cancer because of it, my toes won’t fall off and I’ll live to try again. This is a rational thought. Anxiety takes rational thoughts and turns them into lies in your head that cause deep breathing and heart palpitations that steal your aspirations. Well, I’m flippin’ the bird at anxiety from now on because you can’t win it if your not in it.

I would love to hear what you’ve got going on! What do you aspire to do in the new year (or two days from now if your on my path)? Do you get anxiety? Do you eat an entire gallon of ice cream when you’re nervous or do you hit the gym and sweat it out?

Happy Hump Day!