Sushi (sushimustwrite) wrote,
Sushi
sushimustwrite

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I think Tuesday is the official lazy day of the week for me. We may as well declare that now.

Have you ever noticed that not necessarily big things make you smile, like the huge gift or the big announcement? Sometimes the little things that you do or see every day can brighten your day--once you realize them. I've compiled a small but growing list of mine.

1. The gentle feel of soap on my hands. I probably wash my hands more often than most people do, but by no means am I obsessive-compulsive. (Well, not about hand-washing, but I think all of us have our neuroses.) I feel like I'm starting over, and I really am. I'm washing away layers of dead skin, and as unpleasant as that mental image is, it reminds me that I too can have a new beginning.

2. Those last few minutes of unconsciousness before waking up. I love these moments, those few minutes when my brain is fully alert but my body isn't. If someone were to call during this time, that person would probably hear incoherent mumbling because my body can't keep up with my brain. (Actually, this is true most of the time.) Every day is a new beginning, after all, and this is realized quickly since washing my hands is one of the first things I do.

3. Writing in Dr. Nbook. I can go on for hours here: the feel of a pen in my hand; the smell of fresh paper; the three unintentionally divided parts of my current Dr. Nbook--past (what I've already written), present (what I'm writing now), and future (what I will write); the ink flowing from the pen and forming words on paper; letting myself write and write until I can write no more, and then I inevitably continue to do so. I used to think that I would run out of things to write about. Now I see that life experience gives me writing topics, and even when I do repeat a topic, I'll have the benefit of more life experience to view said topic. I don't like to take things back anymore in my writing; the problem is that I think so quickly that I can't write everything down that I would like. One day I will, though.

4. Listening to myself type. Yes, I type loudly, and my typing does sound chaotic. However, there is an order behind the chaos. Math seems chaotic to many--okay, most. Why? we all ask. More importantly, why should we care? When you dig deep down, deeper than most would care to dig, you see that there is an order to the chaos, even if it has yet to be discovered. Within every chaos there is order, and within every chaos there is beauty, no matter how well hidden.

5. Relishing the words of others. When I feel bad about my own writing, I read the works of others and remember that they, too, felt bad about their writing at some point. After all, every first draft is terrible. I've finished four novels, all in varying states of coherence, and about a half dozen unfinished works in varying states of completion. I may never touch those again, but I keep them around to remind myself of what I write. When I read the words of others, though, I remember that the first draft isn't permanent. It, too, can become a beautiful final draft and maybe--maybe!--a book with a binding that others will read, critique, and recommend to others.

I've wanted to be a novelist since I was ten or eleven. (What I wanted to be before that deserves its own entry.) It was actually the reason I started keeping Dr. Nbook. It was a (small) reason I was planning to be an English major when applying to college, but we know how well that turned out. I still want to write, but now I'm at the stage in my life where reality is starting to kick in, I'm doubting my abilities, I'm discovering that I don't have time in one life to pursue writing and all my other passions, and I'm at the "general doubt about the future" stage of my life.

The "not knowing" is bothering me, though. I have time to figure it out.

**
In other news, Dad figured out why my room was so much colder than the other rooms in the house. It turns out that my room gets more air than the other rooms. Jeffrey's now in a "competition" with me to see whose room can get more air since his room is never cold (this doesn't say much since he's rarely cold, and I always am). Dad adjusted some stuff, but my room's still cold. Maybe it's just me. Oh well.
Tags: dr.nbook, family, future, lists
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