As I was on my way to work this morning, it occurred to me that this is the first job that I was not eager to return to after a vacation. It's such an odd feeling. I always considered myself the type of person who loved their job and was a pathetic workaholic, but not anymore. I guess it's a good thing because hopefully it will be an incentive for me to focus on my writing.

Still, it feels like I've sort of lost a part of my identity and I'm a little sad about it. If I'm not my job and my career, then who am I really? Until I earn money from my writing, I don't think I will ever consider myself a proper writer.