Been a rough couple of years this last few have, mum died in 2017, dad died last year, his greatest fear, of being alone in a hospital. All the while Tories partied and had cheese and wine (There's never going to be a time when that doesn't cause rage), and for those of us who organise events that bring joy to others, it's been a very sparse couple of years, and I'd be lying if I said that it hadn't put a massive dent in my own self image, much less in what I do every day.
I have done great things in the past, but, like everyone I suppose, I've been just trying to get through the last few years, hoping that each year was going to be a little better, that we'd find our way back to something vaguely resembling "Normal", but every once in a while, I read back in the journals for things that I've done and how things were. I've been keeping a journal for twenty years as of today, I started in 2002, when I still lived in London, and life was significantly less complex and far less busy than it is today. I wonder sometimes if the busy is a side effect of getting older, that life just passes by more quickly, but reading back, it's not, it's a side effect of having more things to do, and in many cases, of having less time in which to do them.
Which brings me to today, we had the family over today, enjoyed a variety of foods, fear not everyone, the Mogdalorian did get her due share of the goodies, but afterwards, I retired back to my study and continued working on a few things, including thinking through where things have gone and where things are going. One thing I was most proud of was the million words that I did back in 2014, six novels I got out of that, one of which that went on to be published, and a whole bunch of other things, as well as running several conventions and helping a whole lot of people. What occurred to me, reading back in the days notes, was that I was most happy when I was doing things and making things happen, improving things, being what I was supposed to be.
And I've lost my way a little on that score, I lost who I was in amongst all this misery, all the grief, I lost what it was I was supposed to be. Sitting here now, I know that I've found it again. There's conventions to build, events to plan, books to sell, and people to see, and while I can't determine what the government will do, particularly when they themselves don't seen able to determine what they should do (beyond make more money for themselves of course), I can determine to do the best I can, for myself, for others, and to make life better where I can.
So the picture on the top says it all, for all those wondering what it is, that's John Wick, staring death in the face and telling it that he's back.
As it turns out, he was...
And so am I...
3002 words done today, that's above million pace, I'm not saying I'm going to keep up with that, but it's a good start