This is my journal entry from September 18, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
This morning brought a real breakthrough with my AI workflow. I realized I’d been wasting a lot of time by processing all my transcripts through the AI first and then returning later to edit them. That approach meant I was often reading the same material two or three times, which drained both time and creative energy. The impatience to see the full manuscript complete had been driving that inefficiency. What I really need is a single, focused pass—one seamless flow from AI output to final edit.
Now I see it clearly: the moment I receive the processed transcript from AI, I should go straight into editing. That way, I catch errors early, refine structure immediately, and strengthen the workflow in real time. This also allows me to better recognize how the AI performs and adjust on the fly instead of creating a backlog of partially finished work. It’s incredible how much time I’ve wasted running fifteen transcripts through AI at once only to realize the workflow wasn’t right.
Today, as I drove quietly to massage school, my mind turned over these ideas again and again until the solution clicked. The key is simplicity. One pass through editing, done immediately after processing. No revisiting, no re-editing later. Once I complete that single pass, I’m finished. The book gets published as is, and any future polishing can be left to professional editors or reader feedback.
Massage school itself was another highlight of the day. We practiced effleurage and petrissage, using the new lotions, creams, and oils we received. I worked on one of the moms, which felt both rewarding and slightly awkward. I noticed how the dynamic of giving a massage can carry an energy that calls for clear professional boundaries. It reminded me how important it is to stay grounded and focused on the work itself. I love that feeling, and I love helping someone else feel good through it.
On the drive home, I began dictating a new book about health. The ideas were flowing easily, and I felt inspired to refine my creative systems even more. Later that night, I researched new tools and discovered a program for Mac called MacWhisper. It promises better transcription quality than Apple’s built-in option. If I can capture my words more accurately at the start, the AI will understand me better, and the rewrites will need fewer corrections. A cleaner transcript means a smoother conversation between my words, the machine, and my final written voice.
It feels like everything’s aligning now—workflow, tools, and creative energy. With this new system, I can write faster, edit cleaner, and publish more consistently. I can finally see the path toward producing truly professional books with less wasted motion and more focus on what matters: the message itself.
When I got home today, I immediately sat down to finalize the meeting format for the new AA group I’ve started. We held our first thirty-minute gathering this afternoon, and just as we were wrapping up, one of my friends with over forty years of sobriety walked in. His timing couldn’t have been better. He spoke with us about what it really means to start a meeting, offering wisdom that only decades in recovery can provide. He also recommended a few pieces of literature outside of the official AA texts that he thought might deepen our discussions. The main question we left to consider tonight is whether to incorporate non-AA literature into our format or not.
I’m torn. On one hand, I want this meeting to be an official Alcoholics Anonymous group, listed in the Where & When so people can easily find us. On the other, I want it to feel alive—something that truly helps people expand their thinking rather than repeat the same robotic patterns. I don’t want a room full of people just reciting slogans; I want us to question, to grow, to wake up. Maybe there’s a way to do both—to honor the AA structure while keeping the spirit open and curious.
After the meeting, I went to the tennis club for tennis and had another great men’s clinic with a tennis coach coaching. Three highly skilled players joined from the court next to us, and the energy shifted immediately. Their shots were powerful, precise, and fast. It was exhilarating to hit beside them and feel myself rise to the challenge. Playing near people who are better than me always pulls something higher out of my game. I had an incredible time, both competing and laughing between points.
After practice, a tennis coach and I talked for a while, and I gave her a copy of my book. I’m hoping she’ll enjoy it and maybe share her thoughts when she finishes. I also floated the idea that someday we might trade—massage sessions for tennis lessons. For now, I’m happy to pay and just see how it feels to learn from her in this setting. There’s a good energy between us, and it’s fun to explore that connection while focusing on the game.
Later that night, I spent time with my mom. She’s heading to my brother’s wedding tomorrow, so I wanted to have some real conversation with her before she leaves. I decided to focus entirely on listening, asking questions instead of talking about myself. That shift opened something between us. She began sharing deeply personal memories, stories she’d only mentioned in passing before but never in detail. I realized how often I’d missed those opportunities in the past because I wasn’t truly curious. Tonight I was, and it changed everything.
For about an hour we sat together, and I just listened—really listened. My mom was animated and happy to have my full attention. It felt intimate, healing even, to hear her speak so openly. By the time I went to bed, I felt filled with joy and peace. It was one of those rare days where everything—service, play, and family—flowed perfectly together.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.