I don't want to blog about this, because that might make me realize that it's true. I mean, it is true, but I don't want it to be. You see, my wonderful Year of Writing? Following the calendar and my budgeting, it has actually already ended. And now, as was always the plan, I need to re-enter the workaday world. I am a massive jumble of complicated feelings. There's a significant part of me that is really looking forward to working on things other than my own pet projects. About 3/4 of the way through my Year I realized I was actually looking forward to sinking my teeth into some new work, that I liked working, I just really did not fit in my last work environment and the too many years of being unhappy there were not always (though sometimes it was) about what I was doing, but was much more about how I felt while doing it (i.e. not quite fitting, a little used, starving to use my brain, and stuck). I knew other people who fit just fine there, were thriving, it worked
"In the midst of winter I found in me an Invincible Summer." - Camus ...On exploring strength in its many forms: strong people, strong writing, strong curiosity, obsessions, stances, and loves. Strength as a concept wide enough to encompass fear, truth, vulnerability, and joy.