I was writing to a friend tonight and I found myself typing something I didn’t realize I was going to type. Typing something I didn’t actually mean to type.

I was talking about job things, and about my only alternative dream, and I found myself typing, “but I don’t know if I’d feel like I was making a difference doing that either.” What I’d meant to say was “but I don’t know if I’d like it as more than a hobby.”


Weird typo, isn’t it?

What’s funny is that I started with this “clackity noise” posting as an experiment, as practice, as … I don’t know, exactly. But it was largely because of things Merlin Mann says in the Back to Work podcast, and part of what he says (when he quotes others, whose names I’m not remembering off the top of my head) is that we learn about ourselves through writing.

It’s funny, because writing usually feels like a very conscious thing that we do. We decide what we want to say and how we want to say, and we say it. But sometimes we might write something different from what we thought we were going to, and that’s where writing becomes a means of discovering things about ourselves.

That’s what happened tonight, I suppose. It isn’t exactly a surprise, that I’d want to feel like I was making a difference, it just surprised me that it was lurking in such a way that it came out when I thought I was writing something else altogether.

Gives me something to think about.