A Writer's Notebook, Day Eight-Hundred-And--Eighty-Four

I am still feeling quite low, and am thinking a lot about Dad.  I decided to take and spend a bit of time working on a paper project, as a way of taking myself into a less mental space.  I find, at times, the physical activity, the focus on cutting, folding, connecting is good for me.  It takes me from language, at least to some extent.  Maybe it is like moving meditation for me, at times, but I think it is something else.  I am too focused on what I need to do, on the details of the physical act, that the little linguistic processing I do is only commentary, a nudge about cutting a piece of tape or that a fold is done.  I think some of this is a dyslexia thing, to be honest, but I can never truly be certain what is or is not.  I can say that I managed to make a small paper device that I am happy with for the moment, one that is very similar to what I set out to make this evening.  As well, I think the process I used tonight is one that I will repeat to make other things, and which will allow me to make things I had been conceptualizing.  It is a method for approaching the paper, and is not ideal, in some ways, but the advantages make that compromise seem worthwhile, if only for expediency of getting to an initial physical implementation.

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