Unsexy

It's hot in here.

Nothing is beginning, technically

and very little is finished.

These times are my very most unmotivated times

and just like the gym, the most important times to step into the studio.

I wanted to make sure that this part gets its own song, too: this unsexy time in the studio

where it's sweats and bad/good country music

bare feet and the stunningly strong desire to flee.

At the end of days like today 

if I knuckle down and do what my task list said to do (because days like today totally require a task list - the muse is off banging someone else)

the satisfaction is incredible.

The reward is the work itself,

that those middle parts were done

and done well.

Because what happens after the grumbling stops is wonderful:

it's dedication.

Totally not motivation,

it's discipline.

Sometimes I give myself a carrot to get started,

maybe a piece of chocolate if I saw out 'x' or 'y'

or just the pleasure of singing along to the radio

keeping me present and accounted for

and then

eventually

I fall in love with the unsexy

and we slow dance

and we laugh at our old jokes

because we've known each other for a really long time

and because the company is really fine

.

The night after I overcome

my love of shiny and finished things

and get to work

I always sleep really well.

I kept my head in my work,

in the most sacred and mundane parts of it.

I didn't look to be dazzled or inspired.

I hammered.

I sawed.

I smiled.

I put in work.

Good solid life-affirming work.

xoxo,

Sunny