Sometimes, looking back at how I’ve changed in the past few years, I feel like I’ve finally grown up and become an adult. Not that this means that I don’t still make mistakes (I am the Queen of Mistakeville). It doesn’t mean that I’m not silly or childlike at times.
It was one of those weekends where everything I wrote sounded like drivel. So I’m doing the wise thing and going pictorial…
I dream of the day I wake up and words pour freely out of my head, I suddenly grasp depth of field and know how to perfectly operate all the settings on my camera, and I ride my bike effortlessly up a hill of slippery snow and zig zag through trees without holding my breath.
As I begin this post about what I love about Minnesota winters, it’s 5 degrees fahrenheit outside, with a real feel of -13, thanks to wind gusts up to 32 mph.
The great thing about striving to be a better writer is it forces me to actually do the “be in the moment” “be present” stuff, which I would struggle following through with otherwise.
Last week I took a couple days off so I could have a four day weekend to work on a few writing/get organized projects. For all the time I spent at my computer, I still felt like I got very little done.
