Still I find myself contemplating the meaning of life, but in some respects this has taken a more positive direction.
I am, in general, feeling considerably more determined to make my life more ordered and less stressful. I don’t have a full set of answers right now, but I’m lucky to be finding writing—both the stuff I complete and numerous scraps I fiddle with and toss aside—increasingly cathartic again. One of the things that stopped me writing much was that I produced something that kinda scared me a bit, during a really dark period, around the early Summer of 1999. But that’s history.
I suppose this has helped me a lot in feeling that my destiny is more within my control. If I let things overwhelm me, whether it’s my own troubles or someone’s else’s, I sink into an unproductive, self-piteous rut. I suddenly feel that I can be in control if I learn to handle things differently.
Control always involves making decisions, though. And decisions are rarely easy if they have any importance. So I’m doing a lot of thinking, and writing when I need to.