A sense of accomplishment? What's that? One definition of sense is "an awareness of, or a feeling of . . . In this case it's both, seeing as how I am actively aware of the fact that I finished a self challenge. I have accomplished. And, I did it with ten days to spare. Deadlines! You've gotta love deadlines, especially the ones that come down to the wire. Most adrenaline junkies do. Do you think there's a support group for AJs?
I chose to participate in what I think is a swap. You send five embellished envelopes and rget five in return. Day 1, also the day I got my names and addresses, was an oversized mug filled to sloshing over the brim with undiluted panic. No sugar, no cream. Day 2? Half of it was spent searching for my passport. The other half was wasted on trying to decide which suitcase to pack, and what to take with me in self-imposed exile. Around midnight I picked up a Rhoda pad, my courage, and a Papermate " technical" pencil, and I was off to the races. No calligraphy involved. Not that I'm embarrassed to show off my less than stellar hand, but I believe I was better at it before I decided to learn it from the ground up. Or from the ruled lines up? Some days it's hard to believe that a day will come when I'll look back and wonder, "What was I thinking?" And grin.
I'm grinning right now. A feeling of accomplishment brings a bag of grins with it. So what if I forgot to mail that big envelope day before yesterday? And what if I've forgotten the other parts of this post? It's just like the man said, "“It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.”
I often wish I had the courage to host a letter writing social. Attending one would be just as wonderful, but doing the next best thing is just as great. I drew one! And talk about fun! Then I left it in pencil! No color, no ink, except for the address. A fixative will save the pencil marks called drawing. I just hate having to buy a whole can for one envelope. Polluting with aerosol is a whole other guilt trip, but you know the song that makes everyone twerk, want to twerk, or try to twerk? The one that got Robin Thicke and that young girl into so much hot water? Well, not the song but the other stuff? The lyrics sound like a taunt. As if being a good girl a bad thing. I'm a nonaerosol-using-good-girl-about-to-go-bad. What we won't do for our art, huh?
Here's hoping you've had recent senses of accomplishment too! Write on!