Writing exercise 1

I wrote this 10 days ago, but am just now getting around to posting it. I’m not proud to say that I haven’t kept up as well as I would have liked to with this writing challenge, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep trying to write, even when I don’t feel like it.


Today I’m supposed to write but I don’t know what I’m supposed to write about.

I usually wait for inspiration to strike, but I committed to a 30-day writing challenge and this is day 1. So I’m sitting here and I’m going to write.

I could write about how today is the sixteenth anniversary of 9/11. The tragic day will never be forgotten by any of us but it was easier for some of us to live this day as if it were just another Monday. We have doctor appointments and Target runs and loved ones still in our lives who have not been prematurely yanked away from us just because they went to work one day. It is not fair. Life is not fair.

I could write about how my house is a massive wreck right now and I can’t work up the drive to get it cleaned because I just want to take one second and relax now that the kids are in bed. Did I say one second? I meant 40 minutes. I could write about how having kids means your house is always a wreck and how do you deal with it mentally and how do you keep your patience and how do you find time to play with your kids when your house is always a wreck? You are somehow always cleaning up and it is somehow still always a wreck. It’s not fair.

I could write about how the fact that it’s New York Fashion Week awakens something inside of me, this little bit of my soul that has somehow always been invigorated by and slightly obsessed with fashion. I could write about how part of me dreams I could be in the fashion industry and how the sensible part of me knows that it is a vicious, unrelenting whirlwind of a world that would be easy to get sucked into and lose what is really important. I could write about how I’m a little jealous of the way those people live, one party after another, champagne flowing, posing for street photographers at every turn. I could write about how strange it seems to me to watch these people doing these things on the very day that others are visiting memorials and shedding tears for spouses and mothers and children lost sixteen years ago, while still others are reeling from a massive hurricane or wondering if they have a home to go back to. It’s not that life shouldn’t continue as normal, it’s just that it does. Life is not fair.

I could write about how we are all dealt some lot in life and how even when you look at other people’s “lots” and think you wish you had what they had, they might be struggling with something they don’t tell you and that something is a thing you wouldn’t ever want to deal with. Their life could look exactly perfect and they could be struggling with marital issues or never being able to please their parents or an eating disorder or severe depression. You just don’t know. So you remember that life isn’t fair, and that is just how life is. You might as well stop fighting it and accept what you have been dealt with as much grace and thankfulness as you can muster. Because I think that is where life begins.

Today I’m supposed to write and there is too much to say.

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