In Dependence

A few days ago, I spent a lot of time dragging beds and waddling dressers across my room in my determination to rearrange it all on my own. I cannot say that I am not happy with the result, since all of my furniture fits into the room and I can move, but I will say that I laughed at myself for the pain I endured, the nicely painted wall I risked scraping, and the words that should not have come out of my mouth--all so that I could have that strange sort of satisfaction I find when I don't need anybody else.

When I began to write again, I almost fell into the trap of insistent independence. Thankfully, friendship intervened, and after getting over the sting that I am not unique enough to be the only one in this endeavor, I quickly rejoiced to find not one, but two friends, happy to write with me, to read my writing, and, most importantly, to tell me when something I write is "pathetic." Friendship also intervened when not only did two friends persuade me to write a blog, but more friends and family have given countless bits of encouragement on my writing. Knowing that even a few people are reading, and maybe more, has held me accountable to all writing outside of this blog, along with the daily blog writing itself.

Because of my persistent effort to please those who have given so much to me, I have even considered taking up my sister's challenge: she quoted a successful somebody who said that to spend 10,000 hours doing something makes one an expert. I thought maybe that would be a good goal for the year until my calculator told me I could only do that if I spent 32 hours a day writing; 2 daily hours (6 days a week) being a little more conceivable, I decided that 2 daily hours in a task until I am 39 years old is still much too large a promise. However, I am eager to attempt to someday accomplish so many hours. If I were to write 10,000 hours, then I would either write somethings outstanding or prove that sometimes not even 10,000 hours spent in one field could make me, or anyone, an expert. (Sorry, Rudy.)

No matter, I am confident that I am not wasting my time. Eventually, assuming that my diligence will survive, and even thrive with the promptings of friends, I will look back at those funny days when I started a blog and only dreamed of writing a book.