Winter has arrived. It was a little late this year. There is a huge wave of cold air on the East coast and I feel it in my bones. I feel it as a stronger force, since I am approaching middle age. The years snuck up on me. I have started late, but better late than never. I have done a lot of manual labor and I feel that in my hands and fingers as I write or type. I took the time, two or three years ago to teach myself to type. I let go of my hunt and peck and look at the keys approach and bought a typing program and followed the rules. It took me extra time but I am typing with decent speed now. my goal was to be able to type my thoughts as they came to me. That way I could get my ideas down quickly and keep on truckin’. Now, I can’t look at the keys and type. It is amazing to be able to type like I always wanted to. If I can do that then I can do my writing, too.
Back to the cold.
I feel a coldness not related to the weather. I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel like going to my night job tonight and I don’t even feel like watching TV. I don’t want to read either. I guess everyone has a day like this, once and a while. It may be related to me being an introvert. I stayed up late putting my notes in my writing journal (16a). I had about a year’s worth of notes to cut and glue in. It usually takes a long time to do a whole book and I did this one in 2 days. I may have suffered from information overload. I am going to try and let my mind rest tonight.