Slept like Lady Gaga last night: 3 outfit changes. Kept waking up soaked in sweat. Fever. Coughing.
Going through my old journals - reading all my hopes and dreams - kind of endearing, also kind of sad, like a little kid who wants a pony so badly for Christmas but doesn't get it. Hard to accept not getting something that you wanted, that you had your heart set on, even when you know it was a crazy thing to hope for.
Continuously searching LinkedIn for writers/bloggers/artists that you might connect with, that might inspire you, is like hanging out in the parking lot of Target, hoping to meet cool people. Yes, it might happen, but it's probably pretty unlikely.