Day Sixty-Five: No Time to Write

I have currently reached yet another landmark in the wonderful world if writing daily that I have not encountered before. Today is the first day in sixty-five days that I, honest to God, do not have time to write. I didn't have time at lunch, and I am going to a concert tonight immediately after work, where afterwards I will crash at my boyfriend's house in an attempt to get enough sleep to make it through work tomorrow without stress or discomfort. So that leaves me with now.

While I feel both guilty and rushed that I have to piece together points of my day when I can fit in a few sentences, here and there, unfortunately there isn't much I can do. I suppose, in hindsight, I could have gotten up earlier, or I could stay up later this evening, but of course, I didn't think of that. I'm also pretty unhappy with my choice of topic, but it seemed appropriate, since it is the only thing I'm really capable of focusing on at the moment. So here I sit, writing about writing once again.

And, as usual, writing about writing isn't interesting to read, I'm sure, so instead, picture me sitting in front of a computer, sweaty and frazzled from doing twelve other things, tied to my desk for a second. In between answering a ringing phone roughly every forty seconds, I'm typing furiously in order to get down a paragraph, or even a few sentences before I lose my chance. It's 2:00 PM on a Tuesday, I'm hungry, I'm slightly stressed out, and I'm writing. And it's times like these when I really don't want to be writing but would much rather be sitting and collecting my thoughts and my sanity for a moment when I feel most proud of myself, because as mentioned before, I never finish anything.

So sixty-five days in, I may be writing about writing, but I'm writing just the same. I'm busier than a rat at a carnival (get the Charlotte's Web reference, please), but I'm writing. And for me, that means something pretty spectacular. It means that maybe I am capable of actually finishing something, and maybe I am capable of following through on a commitment I make to myself. Sure, I don't eat healthy all the time even though I promised myself I would, and I didn't cut out all refined sugar for a month, like I promised myself I would, but two months into writing, I'm still doing it. And I've still done it everyday. And that's pretty spectacular.