I've been writing again. Not a lot but more since I've been lying around sick as a dog. Mostly poetry, but thats something. And mostly depressing. That's something, too though I don't know if I've actually been feeling depressed. But I've had a lot of time and motivation to self-reflect. The motivation comes from the melancholy skies and smell of a fire. The holidays start rolling in and so does the nostalgia, as all these little moments trigger feelings and emotions which, in turn, produce some unexpected or unpredictable work. It could be said that they're good and bad, both the feelings and the work, though I don't know if they are anything more than they just.... are....
It may also be seeing my entire paycheck gone in a single weekend. Once the bills - rent, utilities, loans, insurance - are all paid, there's nothing left.
But whatever it starts out as, it becomes theraputic to start the writing process. And I've been in such a dry spell for quite some time that I really don't care how or why its now flowing. It stirs up and waves come over me and I want to put things on paper. I want to share those feelings, recreate and add to them, and I'm thankful that a shift in the weather lends to such.
It may also be seeing my entire paycheck gone in a single weekend. Once the bills - rent, utilities, loans, insurance - are all paid, there's nothing left.
But whatever it starts out as, it becomes theraputic to start the writing process. And I've been in such a dry spell for quite some time that I really don't care how or why its now flowing. It stirs up and waves come over me and I want to put things on paper. I want to share those feelings, recreate and add to them, and I'm thankful that a shift in the weather lends to such.
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