Points For Breathing

I keep thinking there ought to be something important to post, but there isn’t.

We went out and got new fish for Liam’s aquarium today, as the last set died off over the past four months. I must stop flirting with birds and patting kittens in pet shops.

People coming over this afternoon, possibly. We’ll find out when/if they arrive.

I finished The Boleyn Inheritance in a day and a half. I’m enjoying reading instead of working this week. I’d forgotten what it’s like to just devour books. Particularly books not connected to something I’m writing myself, which qualify as “work books”.

I’m struggling with the end of the calendar year approaching and feeling as if I’ve accomplished nothing in 2006, which is a load of codswallop because I wrote a book, mothered a toddler, wrote parts of two other books, saw my third book published, created a new website, performed the marriage ceremony for two of my dearest friends, and performed in five concerts of various types. I read a lot, and researched a lot. I did a lot, but I don’t feel as if I accomplished a lot, which leads me wonder what I’d quantify as an “accomplishment” these days.

There’s more to this thought, but I haven’t yet decided if I’m going to publically post the rest of it. It needs more rumination and work, and while what I’ve written out is plain and true, it doesn’t sound very bright or optimistic. But then, recognising non-beneficial things and planning non-popular change rarely sounds perky or celebratory.

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