A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-One

I don't keep a personal diary or journal, largely because my relationship to writing is such that I find it difficult to actually write something for myself, with no intent that it be for an external audience.  That is not to say that I don't have things I write, in a literal sense, just for myself, but when I compose them, I am aware that I am thinking of it as something another person might read and not directed at myself.  At present, I have been writing rather freely and without focus into a document for some time now.  It began as a specific project, but that faded and it has become more a stream-of-consciousness dialogue with myself, and much of it has been rather self-indulgent.  I've spent much of it contemplating the same situations and spinning around as I consider them, trying to change things that I am not in control of, but the last few days I have started to move in new directions, I think.  I feel there is something significant in that, though I cannot explain just what right now. 

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