So, lately, I have actually been writing. Some fiction and non, I have written about 4-5 pages worth of decent stuff; stuff I’m not looking back over and hating, deleting. For me, this is a vast improvement. Once I graduated with my masters, I put writing away for a while. Even though I still claimed it as a hobby, I could not call it my job. Not being in school anymore sort of nullifies something like that. I suppose it would be like someone with a law degree doing hard-hat work. I don’t DO what it is I am trained in. Granted, still working in the department gets me closer to the writing hub but it cannot and did not persuade me to write.

I am excited about the work I have produced, though it’s nowhere near being SOMEthing; nothing complete. The thing I am liking the most about it is that I am feeling more. This is going to sound silly and cheesy but I feel like I am taking more notice of the tiny things around me. I remember this from school, now: the details, the characteristics of people I see on the street or in a restaurant, the smells, the weather. I am just seeing it more clearly. Everything is lot more sensual.

And on that note, somehow my sinuses have cleared. My entire life I have lived with the reality of having a stuffy nose at all times. It seems, just within the past couple months, I have been clearer; at least one side is. And I can smell things better. I’m noticing the smell of barbecue as I drive through a neighbourhood, or the flowers that bloom in the parking lot at work, or the cologne on the man in front of me in the city, mixed with car fumes, hot dogs, and horses. I am amazed by all this stuff I have been missing out on in part due to the lack of writing and the sinus issue. It’s like someone removed the pantyhose from the camera lens and my world isn’t all hazy anymore.

If it’s like that for the rest of you writers out there, I am jealous. I suppose I shall not lament the past but enjoy this while it lasts. My allergies could very well flare up again and I may get busy and find no time to write. But in the meantime, life is good.