I have written. A few days after that previous post (okay, around the 13th), I got out another couple thousand words written, from 2,000 and something to 4,423. And I'm proud of that even though I haven't nearly reached the goal I would have liked to reach, and haven't fully gotten back in the writing habit. Even now I am only taking a few quick minutes to update here, but then I have grades to update.
And tomorrow is Thanksgiving, the history of which I have great issues with--I know I've been raised in a privileged home, even if we were never more than middle-middle class (lower-middle class even, though I didn't think of life in those terms and never felt deprived), and I try my hardest to learn all I can about history and other cultures and traditions, while trying to get rid of any prejudices I may have (I won't claim to have none, but I don't like it, so I try to recognize it and reverse it). Thanksgiving is steeped like a dark, bitter tea in twisted symbolism and skewed events.
But I can't help but like the (more modern?) idea behind it, of taking time in a busy world to show gratitude for what you have and to say thank you for the wonderful people who stand beside you--both literally for those near at hand, and figuratively, for friends and family who live in the colder places, but whose warmth still reaches across the distance.
On a stressful day when my timecard was giving me trouble, a small thanks to the IT guy for walking me through the fix. And thanks to a fellow writer for encouraging the writer in me who just wants to curl up and sleep all too often these days (for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which has been a cold and chillier nights), and a thank you to the people who thank me, because something as small as that makes my day, knowing my words however few and faint, reached someone and meant something to them.
So thank you to my readers here, to my friends, to my fellow writers.