Today's a special day, but I cannot tell you why.
Today's a special day, but I did nothing, not even fly.
Today's a special day, and it'll never happen again.
Just kidding, there'll be a next time--I'll tell you when!
Writing has been hard for me to do lately, mostly because I haven't had much time. As per usual. But also because I forgot the type of feelings I could get whenever I let my fingers go free on the keyboard or put pen to paper, and doing so is not ideal at the moment. It's ironic because it is National Novel Writing Month, and the first one during which I am not writing a novel.
I have been doing lots of writing though--papers, personal statements, excel spreadsheets and the like. Not much of the stuff I want to write: letters, essays, stories.
But a time will come when that will be something I do not have to find time for. What it means to "make it" is becoming more and more clear, I think because the future is so much more real at this vantage point. It means not having to schedule time for the things that make you happy, for the people who make you smile. Working towards the day you wake up and think, "I made it" is just as valuable as that day.
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