I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

I believe I’ve rested myself well enough, I must have for after a 5 hour nap, I’m feeling wide awake: physically and mentally. I’m ready for this year, I’m ready to kick some ass: physically and mentally. I’ve got a way of thinking that comes to me at my greatest times, and here it is again. The only thing that kept me where I was, was fear of never attaining that state again. Now I know that I don’t need that, I might want it, but I can get by without it. In fact, I rather enjoy both sides of it. Oh why am I cursed to be so loved and so loveable? Yeah right, whatever, Chico.

I think I mean that too often I was holding back from writing because I wasn’t feeling truly inspired, but then I found that I could still write very well without utter inspiration. You definitely need to strike when the iron’s hot, but you also need to strike when it’s cold, lukewarm, or whenever. Just keep striking.