Saturday, August 14, 2010

OK, so i didn't write anything today . . .

Do writers have to write every day?  Mostly.  Sometimes.  Usually.  "Normally."  (I like this last one.)  If they feel like it.

Why do i write?  Because sometimes it feels like i have to.  (Or else i'll go (further) insane.)  For me, it's some the same reason why i read -- because i feel like it!

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More time spent with my true love.  And so comfortable, that time spent together now; we're so lucky.  Some of the best times of life:  just being together, safe and loving.

Beautiful trees and grass visible out my window — hello, nature.  (Even if a bit tamed.  Plus i have the AC on, because i'm still warm from bicycling.)  Bits of dappled sunlight getting through the obstacle course of leaves.  No roommates home right now; the whole house to myself, and i'm still content in my room.  In my imagination, a little light snow has begun to fall; the backyard slowly turns white, and the trees are surprised by August frozen precipitation.  A few little leaves flutter down from the trees, breaking the illusion.  Maybe i should turn down the AC.

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How will we know when we've done enough in this life?  I don't know.  Maybe when we stop asking.  Maybe when we stop caring whether we're done or not, if we've "done enough" or not, or some other odd notion.  Maybe when we reach a final acceptance that we have to die and demonstrate that acceptance by actually dying.

Enjoy living, dear Reader.

1 comment:

  1. Looking for that elusive dream . . . happiness in purposelessness. Unfinished "business" spurs us on into so many seemingly important pursuits. Today, my important pursuit was wine and cheese. Smile, beloved!!! It's a life worth living!!! :-)

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