I always get about this far into NaBloPoMo, and wonder what the heck I was thinking: there's sleepovers and Thanksgiving and pies to make; there's birthdays to scrap for and Christmas presents to scout out; there's doctor's appointments and relapses and every single germ in creation headed straight for me. In other words, November is not exactly a stress free month - for any of us.

But then I remember that coercing myself to write everyday reminds me that I have a connection to people who don't just exist within 65 miles of my physical self. It reinforces the idea that there are other people like me, who are just trying to make it through their days, and we're all helping each other out. It forces me to think of something to talk about, allowing for the instances when all I have to talk about is how sucky something has been & promoting instances when glorious things occur. It gives me something to look back on with pride and accomplishment at having met a goal and overcome obstacles.

So here's to another day down, and 9 days to go.