I've been thinking a lot lately about courage and strength. I've been thinking about people who's courage I admire and I've been thinking just how much I might have in my own personal stores. Sometimes, it's good for me to borrow a bit of another person's resiliance in the midst of their own challenges. Sometimes I have to remind myself that if I just keep moving, the simple act of holding my head up and keeping it up is enough. Maybe that's what courage is. The willpower to keep trying.

In a random burst of daring, I took myself out last night.

I dressed up in my most favorite going out shoes (and, you know, some clothes) and took myself to a nice bar where I had one-and-a-half drinks and some crab dip.

And it wasn't bad. But it was weird.

I need to do more things like that. I need to keep pushing my boundries, making my world as big and rich as I can.

This morning, I woke up in a better mood than I did the morning before. I can't help but think it was my little bit of something different that caused that.

Isn't it just like life that the second I'm feeling good, the second I'm feeling centered, *woosh!* things change again.

I feel as though I won't make it, but I know I will because I have to.

This is the time where I should be taking my head out of my ass. This is the time where I need to be keeping myself busy. This is the time where I'm supposed to be reminding myself that everyone has problems.

I know that.

But I'm so tired of living in the space where I am. I want something to hold on to. I want something to make me happy and satisfied. How do I get to that?

I have always known I wanted to be a writer. I've always been a writer through and through. But why can't I write? I need a creative boost. I need a kick in the head.

Today I pretended that my on-vacation life is my real life. What if I didn't have to go to my soul-crushing brain-numbing job? What if I got to get up, watch Golden Girls and pick my nose for a couple of hours? What would I want to do when all the boogers were gone? The only answer I could come up with is that I'd like to be creative and I'd like to write.

Then the doubting thoughts come. Maybe I'm not good at writing? Maybe I'm no good at anything creative at all? But, ah fuck it, I finally thought. Nobody got anywhere thinking those kind of thoughts, I thought. And anyhoo, whoever decided that lack of talent should stop any artist.

I'm reading this new book about worrying. Because I'd like to be a normal person one day. Anyway, this book says that I should focus on today and today only. What's in the past is done and the future's only a hope, the writer says. The thought of that is indeed reassuring and I felt my body relax a little when I read it. Today has been about relaxing and calming and being by myself. Being alone can be a little intimidating becaue then I'm stuck with my crazy brain and all it's neuroticisms and worries, but today it's been about no expectations and doing what I can. I took a brief, hot walk which was nice I guess. I read a book and right now, I'm doing some laundry. All in all, I've been pretty content with myself.

What in the holy hell is happening to me?

That's what I'm asking myself when I'm not curled up in fetal position or trying to imitate a normal person. What the hell changed? what the hell is different? I've never been so uncomfortable in my own skin. I've never been so scared of life. I feel like I'm stuck in the before of my story and I don't want to make any mistakes that could effect the after. If I do, I reason, I'll be able to pinpoint exactly what went wrong; I'll know exactly what I shouldn't have done.