The practice of writing lines seems to get a rather bad break, all things considered.
It is not time wasted, in the same way that prayer or meditation is not time wasted. It is an act of discipline and devotion. It is practice of a skill I must use daily, and a skill that, judging by the scrawl in my diary, still requires a great deal of focused practice even after all these years of use.
It is time when I am forced to slow down, to take a break from the chaos and simply be. To reflect and to learn. It is only tedium when devoid of growth.
It is a quiet, personal reaffirmation of who I am. Alone in my room, stripped of the battle-armor that I must wear to the office, I reconnect with something deeper. Something private. Something that while it may not be widely seen, still influences who I am and how I interact with everyone I meet. Not many need to know the details, but all can see the result.
Disclaimer: I say all of this having only recently begun this practice and I write with the zeal of a recent convert. Ask me how it is going in a few months and I may be singing a rather different song.