Contrary to evidence here, I've been doing a lot of writing lately.
But it's mostly of the research, policy-minded, quantitative type of writing I thought I'd left back in grad school. Thankfully, because I believe in the causes and (mostly) love what I do, the intensive and sometimes mind-numbing work is ultimately rewarding. So I keep telling myself as I down triple lattes and log miles out on the Baltimore streets after work trying to expel all the contained energy.
In moving, I stumbled across a book of clippings from my freelancing days. While there are things I miss (the illusion of grandeur, mostly) what I've found these days is that the harder I work, and the more I commit myself to what I do, the easier it is for me to breathe.
Everything is just so different now, years later. Stumbling into something that fits seems so accidental and so deliciously gratifying, but is it really some freak alignment or a series of choices that line up and suddenly doors swing open at the right times? After so many years of running against the wind, you finally crash land against the right door and find it unlocked. And open it to find a whole world of doors you didn't know existed. And maybe it's not the door you thought you wanted, or even in a hallway you wanted to go down. But it's there, and it works, and it fits, and suddenly it all just makes sense, somehow.
Ran outside in short-sleeves the other evening. Spring is on its way. And I've got races coming up, final stages of moving into my new place, Vegas in April with Book Club, Snap's wedding in May, and the on-set of kayaking season!
Plus, you know, all that policy that needs writing. That, too.