And so thew day has begun, and I am standing up, typing away to get to some sort of ambiguous target even thought the target is not that ambiguous at all.
I am standing here, I am thinking about National Novel Writing Month, where I shall write once more a manuscript that will probably never see the light of day.
I am thinking of the sky, the sun, the other stars that are not the one that we refer to as the sun, and pother things that shall carry me home in a way that involves movement.
There are a lot of things to consider and this break is not long enough to allow a full consideration of all the things in which I would like to spend considerable time considering.
Such is the way of the life that I am leading at this current moment. Well, that is what I tell myself.
The wood underneath the keyboard is brown, and my fingers are moving excitedly, in a sense. I guess that it is not an inaccurate description, but it probably is more inaccurate than I would like to admit.
I would like to be at home in my underpants, letting the sun caress my skin in a way that suggests some sort of warmth, but right now I am partially under the ground. There is no sun as it has been replaced with walls and fluorescent lights.
This new floor is much more open than the old one, and sound travels much farther and much more obviously than it had prior to the move to a new area.
Today is going to be a good day. It will be a long day, but it will be a good day. It will be a better day when the air is felt once more on my body as I glide with some ease down a road or a cycle path and into another location, do a loop, head home and use the power of my legs to move me at a pace faster than walking.
Today will be a good day when I no longer have to be in a room that feels somewhat-saddening to be in. this is not a pleasant room and this is no longer a pleasant place to be.
Something is wearing out its welcome, or perhaps it had done so a long time ago and I had failed to realise.
On the plus side, soon it will be time to go home. There are less than six hours to go, and it is not the busiest of days. These are both good things. I can get some stuff done and then move onto other things.
A lot of the time I write as I love the process of writing, but I’m sure that somehow, in some manner I’m looking for something not necessarily deeper, but possibly something beyond the way I write.
I’m always striving to further my ability.
It’s a most wonderful journey.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:48:63
Rambling followed by more rambling.
Written at work.