The past two weeks have been stressful. It's finally and truly settled in that nothing on the internet is ever private or as well hidden as one thinks, so I won't go into details. Suffice to say, I kind of miss being young and stupid enough to think that everything was the fault of circumstances, and not my bad decisions.
Bad decisions, as my new favorite saying begins, leads to great stories, however, and that's where you'll find me today: writing. A post from Maria Kang helped me organize my week into three types of goals: physical, professional, and personal. On the middle one, I set a goal to write my morning pages five days a week (a.k.a. a normal work week for somebody who pulls a 9-5), 1k words towards my novel for these same five days, and sending five freelance queries. (If you're curious about the physical and personal goals, those are working out for 60 minutes for six days of the week, and catching up with my written correspondence, respectively).
I fell a little bit short on my novel goals, but not so much that I can't make it up today before my workout - which is going to happen, because exercise helps to tire me out so I can't worry. Hey, it's better than drinking away my troubles, right?
Anyways, I'm going to catch up to where I should have concluded yesterday, and then start on today's thousand.
Everything is going to be okay. I keep telling myself that. I have a vision. I have a plan on how to get there. I can fix this.