a Hessian discussion beneath a willow tree this weekend about being useful in the world had me once more feeling melancholy that the things that bring me Great Joy (ie. drawing, reading, writing, setting things on fire) are very likely of utterly No use to anyone else on the planet. which is a problem when one is trying to find a fulfilling direction that is not just worsening the worry of self-absorption and the resultant isolation and arrogance that comes from that.
then, checking my work email to fleece it of some of the gratuitous spam that is very overwhelming first thing in the morning, i found another response from a writer who had sent a lovely piece to us, but alas, not a Brick worthy one. she was so thankful for the kind words (which really were very cursory, but did come from a real place, and having read her piece), and i thought perhaps that could be a useful thing.
i really really enjoy reading the Unsols. not always, but we get alot of good and Important work, even if it's not Good or Literary "Writing" per se. How crucial to keep people aware that the very fact that they are submitting work for consideration is a victory and of Great Merit.
it's interesting to me that it is a challenge to find merit in things, whether it be my own accomplishments or those of people i don't know. it doesn't come easily, but it's Immensely fulfilling, this line of thinking.