A Writer's Notebook, Day Eight-Hundred-And-Fourteen

I do not feel very much like writing tonight, and have not for the entire day.  I still did my work, but I was distracted and unfocused.  There are other matters on my mind, and, though I can write about those, that work feels, at the moment, like wallowing, and does not seem to me to be very artistically meritorious.  I still did it, but I would rather find a way to just be distracted for the moment, as I am allowing myself to process a whole bunch of new information.  The information itself is not bad, is most likely good, in the long run, but it is still unexpected and has impact on plans for the future, in both long and short term ways.  It is not worth getting into it right now, because it is still just too fresh for me, and I am still a bit hesitant.  Besides, I want to speak with certain people in my family first and to discuss it a bit.  Right now, I am just feeling nervous, but I think that is natural.  I wish I could focus enough to write something unconnected from this, but it is quite central for my thinking, and so I believe it better to just let the work rest for tonight.  

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