It is one of those days where I have caught up on backlog and I am coasting a little before the next round of activity hits. These are the days where I end up questioning every single decision, thought and word that comes out of me (or at least out of my general direction).
Work is something I love. In the interests of following other passions, i.e. reading, I have taken on a proofreading course. This will help with income at some point, but I am enjoying the process. I am trying to further my career so doing some accreditation (equivalent of a Bachelor’s degree) in that area. Writing academically is … yeah.
But lately the desire to turn all those thoughts and story lines that keep me up at night into a book has been clamouring. Probably short stories – the length of my dreams. Loads of them veering from the practical to the terrifying to the what the fuck did I just dream? Trust me of late the WTF dreams are getting even weird by my weird standards.
Is it too much though? Am I diversifying to the extent that I don’t even know myself? Or am I only now finding the space and time to see what really makes me happy?