I have now published two things on Amazon, which should make me ecstatic, but has so far only reinforced the voices in my head which while away the days constantly berating me for every single stupid hope and dream upon which I dare to cling. None of this is working out remotely like I would have hoped, and now I feel like I am in the same untenable position which I have been in, but without the confidence that everything will work out for the best. I guess I should have learned by now that… well, hell. If I’d learned it by now, then I guess I’d know what exactly it was that I was supposed to have learned. Probably something about looking before I leap, or not jumping out of a perfectly serviceable airplane.

If only I wasn’t a man of extremes. When I I’m up, I tend to do fairly well for myself, but when I’m down, I tend to stay that way for quite awhile. I just wish that I could have learned to be happy making money, as opposed to hoping to make money by doing something which made me happy. I don’t know that I’m cut out for all of this. Not the writing part: aside from a sprained ego, I seem to be doing alright. I just mean trying to keep everything in air as I flail my hands to and fro as I teach myself to juggle. I have to make this work somehow.

I know that it can be done. Flor says to have faith. I guess we’ll see.