We write for our vacuums. That they might pull in a thread or two of interest and spin something together. Strong writing need not be loud but dense, and as black holes pull larger, but less massive, bodies toward it to dance, so does an honest tale.
My pen's been pushing against the clock hands these days. Feeling rushed, like it's not a priority. But they still come daily, even if they're just a sentence or few, to keep this as a focal point for the pendulum's return trip.
Summer always comes crashing down on routines and habits. To survive it is to win, I think. Coziness breeds ample time to look inward. So long as you're not a mess internally, you can string something pretty healthy along from it.
Everyone I talk to is looking forward to fall. I don't understand why they'd be so ready to quit the season whose main output is a happiness chemical for human bodies. But to each their own.
Maybe I'll try one of those daylight lamps this year.
This says probably more about me than my preference for weather. As in i'm always addicted to chasing what's next rather than what's now.
lol agreed, the heat has such a lift to my mood
i actually don't have that chasing for geographic location or jobs. More imaginary daily lifestyles though. Like one day i shall live like X or Y or Z
oh and i'm always thinking about the next project i'll be working on. so maybe not job looking forward to, but projects. writing included lol.
i hear you about projects; i usually bundle too many in too short a timeframe and end up leaping spectacularly from at least a few of them onto a moving train below