It’s one of those mornings. Too hot. Too fussy. All those things.

Getting existential, though it’s near the end of the year so that is to be expected. What year wouldn’t be complete with a bunch of reflection, introspection, and beating down oneself? But of course, the future always looks bright, blah blah blah. You know how it goes already and I don’t need to say more than that.

But, you know, this year was a big year. Still is a big year. I’ve got my corner space and I’m hidden, but I’m visible to all, and I’m sitting here and I’m doing nothing right now but the day starts soon, so I better get into it. Better get into the doing of things. Better get ready to do the job. Be steady. Get on with it. You know.

I’m where I can switch off after work, and that’s great. It’s what I want. It’s far less toxic. Also great. But, I think I’d rather be making my money doing my writing and photography, though I’m pretty close to taking photography out of my life at this point. Took my test shots when I got the camera serviced. Other than once ore twice, have not missed or felt much of anything related to using it, and that’s always a sign. Or maybe it’s not.

Burned out on all the carrot dangling and the networking, all that stuff. Much rather not keep dealing with that crap, you know?

But I reflect, and I think about what a year it has been, but that’s for another bit of writing. Right now I just want to talk about thinking about stuff without actually talking about the stuff that I’m thinking about. Maybe that’s not conducive to good writing or something, or maybe it is but it depends on how you go about it, but right now I don’t care. I just want to write and I want to see worlds flow from my fingers.

I want to se characters fall and fall, and maybe rise, and I want to see stories move along at a steady, unbroken pace. I want to see things end where they start and start where they end, and I want transformation to be more subtle, if there is indeed any transformation at all. I want to see the smell of the Australian coast rise up along cliff faces, and touch the nostrils of those walking along as they say goodbye to it without realising, and return to that moistened salty stone smell, and are reminded of home.

But of course what is actually returning is something different, and something reflective, though perhaps not in the moment. But everything changes over time, and when we’re caught in it, we may not realise, especially if we ourselves remain resistant to it and fight it at every juncture.

Don’t get me wrong; some change is definitely worth fighting, such as the rise of conservatism. It’s positive change that we shouldn’t resist.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:30:50

This kind of went somewhere. Kind of.

Written at work.