When does improbable finally come to mean impossible? For the second day in a row I’ve not had chance to write my one sentence. Would it be impossible for me to find the time? Probably not, thus for the last couple of days it has felt improbable to commit just a small amount of time to writing.
My job – the one I actually get paid for – has been taking up a lot of time toward the end of this week. Add to that some social occasions whereupon I have interacted with people I haven’t seen much of lately and my health not being as tip top as the ‘average’ person: well, those quiet, potentially opportune moments for writing have just had to wait. Usually I might write on the train, or the bus or in the evening when I’m home (which hasn’t been until late evening recently!). But I’ve needed these moments for myself, to keep me sane and allow myself the time I need to recover in enough time to do it all again tomorrow!
Right now I’m typing this on my mobile phone while I’m in the bath: a time when really I should let the day’s challenges soak away and evaporate while I relax.
Not much is impossible. Writing a little each day hardly even seems difficult when you examine it objectively. Yet, in practice there are just some days it becomes an improbable complication to an already overwhelmingly busy day when priorities have to be managed accordingly and there isn’t that spare minute to concentrate your mind on the act of writing.
And yes, I’m aware this contradicts something from an earlier post where I vowed to put myself and my writing dream first. But, on a day like today my ultimate dream is to just have five minutes all to myself and be at peace. Right now, I’m struggling to even make that happen.