I don’t feel like writing. No words or ideas. Nothing worth sharing. How on earth am I going to write a hundred words, let alone 250? In fact, why do I even bother writing today at all? Was there anything I learnt today? Did I meet some new people? Take a few chances? Share my burden with othes? Shock them with my frankness? Annoy them with my pessimism? Alarm them with my hope and wild ideas? Express my frustration? Complain? Smile? Laugh? Draw? Do calligraphy and write out a quote? Help someone? Help my wife? or kids? Do chores around the house? Imagine something? Do yoga? Read a page? Get angry at the kids, and drive twice to the station because the young fella dropped his card? A constant stream of consciousness pouring out, and nothing to make sense of.
How we spend our days, after all, is how we spend our lives. How did I spend my day? And my week? Two months into the year, has there been any progress in my growth? In my life? Have I built any new relationships? Deepened any existing ones? Asked for help? Offered help? Did something meaningful, even if no one acknowledged it, or even saw me do it? Worried about world affairs? Had a friend drop off yummy cake? Think about how life would be without work? Or meaningful work? Or volunteering work? Inspire people? Express gratitude? Receive gratitude with grace? Listen to heavenly music? Play some music, even if it sounded the opposite of divine? Tidied up? Remembered to do taxes and finances?
Yeah, it’s pretty hard to write because I don’t feel like writing today. Tomorrow might be a new day, to begin it well and with serenity.
Hemingway readability Grade 2