Awakening.

Last night I set my alarm for 4:00 a.m. in order to get up and write.

I am writing a book.  I plan on working on my book for an hour every morning, rain or shine, dead or nimble brained.  The tentative title of my book is called "Dinner with 80 Million People".  So far that title beat out "Cosmic Fikir".  Well, because the book is not just about fikir.  And I've decided that fikir does not even have to be the focal point.

I will not now tell you what it is about.  Suffices to convey that it is a memoirette with a little bit of love and adventure and serendipity and sorrow and agony.  A bunch of juicy existential crap.

Something happened to me that I don't think has happened to anyone else.  If you want to know what it is, you can read my book.

In a few weeks I turn 37.  I plan on having my book finished, revised, edited, polished and published at the very latest by the time I turn 40.

My boyfriend encouraged me to write on my book for an hour every day.  He wrote a book one time.  An academic magnum opus about migrants.  There is a copy of it in the Library of Congress and you can also find it on Amazon.  He is kind of awesome like that.

Partly owed to the few glasses of wine I had last night, I was in an extremely deep slumber when my alarm screamed this morning.   After I stopped the alarm, I turned upside down on my bed, feet at the headboard, and just lay there.  Groggy.  My mind a black ocean.  Everything inside me wanted to close my eyes again and sink back into an unconscious state.  I felt I needed sleep like one deeply longs for love.  After about 12 minutes, I got up and crept around the house, visiting the bathroom, the coffee maker, my cat, and hitting the lights.

My book got a slight workover, mostly in the form of correcting and rearranging a few things I had previously written.  More importantly, however, this morning was spent, in all seriousness, with a great deal of gratitude for my life and circumstances.  After I sat at my computer for about an hour, my son awoke and tiptoed into the living room of my tiny apartment.  He looked so cute.  Still in pajamas, he scrunched himself onto our soft, green couch.  I put a blanket on him and kissed him many times.

By the time we left the house in order to go to school and work, we were both clean, had clean clothes, we had slept warmly all night, we had breakfast, the dishes were clean, laundry from the washing a few days ago was still fresh, all bills were paid, I had lunch for work, he had a snack for school.  We got into my car that works - with heat!  We drove off to confront our daily responsibilities.   Having arrived at his school, we parted with declarations of love and an exchange of hugs and kisses.

The past 8 months of being out on my own and forcibly, like most of the world, taking care of everything administrative, logistical, physical, critically necessary to exist...  Finding success in self-sufficiency, being educated enough to find a job that easily pays my bills even if I barely have any money leftover, has been a godsend.

Days of good fortune.