These past three days have been absolutely wonderful. I've had the time and the energy to get a lot done and its given me a glimpse into the kind of life I want. A life in which I write full time, when my time is my own to use as I see fit. I used to wonder if I'd be up to the challenge of writing full time, if I'd be able to get anything done at all. Sometimes it's a lot easier to write in small constraints of time, in stolen hours between work and sleep then it is when you have the full day stretching ahead of you, seemingly endless, as though you have all the time in the world.
But these past three days I've surprised myself. Instead of pushing my work away and numbing my brain with hour after hour of television, I've jumped into my work each day. Sure, I've also spent a few hours watching tv, reading my book, walking the dog and etc, but I've accomplished a fair bit.
I have to go back to work tomorrow, and I'm not looking forward to it. When I think of all the wasted hours spent looking busy when I could have been at home being busy, it makes me frustrated. True, I've found a lot of inspiration in working at a makeup counter, seen more than a few interesting and flat out weird characters, but I'm ready for my hours to be filled with writing, not watching. Unfortunately, I still need to eat, so that won't be happening for sometime. Not until I either establish myself enough to live solely off my writing, or find a way to transform pure sunshine into energy within my body like a plant. (I'm working on both).
In the meantime, I'll have to get used to writing within stolen hours again, instead of waiting for inspiration to strike and taking breaks when necessary. I'll have to fit it in when I can. There's no option of waiting for inspiration. The choice is only to find it and use it, or just begin writing and keep going till it finds you. Not a bad habit to get into, I'll admit. But I will miss waking up on my terms, instead of an alarm's.