A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Eighty-One

It has been another rather trying day, on many levels, and I am utterly exhausted, as well as over heated and aching.  Again, I could use all this to say, as I did yesterday, that I am not going to work now, but I know how that would feel to me in the morning, and I do not want that.  As well, I do find, as I have said, writing a helpful part of processing things for me, at times.

Beyond this, I also think it is worth my recalling a feeling that was extremely motivating to me early on.  It may be that I have forgotten this, as my work has become so stead, but the days when I did not work lacked a feeling of accomplishment and fulfillment, a sense of having moved to fulfill some purpose.  Writing is something that is integral for me, in my sense of self, even when I was not writing, so being actively engaged with my art is a way of feeling that I am spending the time I have on this planet in a meaningful and fulfilling way.

On a day such as I had today, when most of my energy was zapped by time-wasting problems that should never have come up, but which occurred at the worst possible time when I had other things far more important to deal with, writing is a counterbalance.  I spent much of my time on BS, though it was necessary, it still sucked, but I can look back and think that even so, I did not waste my day, I still did my writing, I still worked on what matters to me in a way that was meaningful.