Nearly every evening, when I sit down in front of my computer to compose a new blog entry, I feel momentarily terrified of that blinking cursor dancing lonely on a blank white box. But it is a sensation that quickly passes; I type a sentence and, just like that, the hardest part is over. This is not to say that the sentences that follow flow effortlessly, but the terror of nothingness has been replaced, at least, by something. And that something, whatever it is, is almost always better than nothing.
Today, a man at church asked me how I am doing these days. My mind went to my job and the state of dissatisfied sadness I've generally found myself in lately, and, in that regard, the "All right," I responded with sounded optimistic. But, upon further reflection, I remembered the CouchSurfer from England who had just been staying with us and the two girls from Montréal who will be coming next week. I remembered that, though I earn a pittance at my job and live with my parents, I get to do the two things that bring me the most fulfillment--writing and cooking--every day and that I have the freedom to partake of simple pleasures--going to the zoo or just relaxing and reading--on my days off. And, taking all these factors into account, I quickly amended my reply. "I'm actually doing really well," I told him, "Yeah. Really well."
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