Why can't I dedicate myself to my book? Is there something I should be waiting for? Things I should learn before I can do this? I revolutionize my perspective all the time. And I believe it's important. Just a few weeks ago when I had that crying episode at work, and I released my inability to let people love me.. That was important. Not just because I can talk about it, and show people what I learned from it. But because I see myself differently now, and thus, my perspective and my slant reflects that.

I have like 40 hours worth of reading to do. Of my own writing. My own journal entries. Sifting through it, pulling stuff out. That will take me centuries if I only do like one hour a month. It's already been two years since I decided to do this. And I've done a lot of tangent work since then, but nothing that I feel has really helped get things going. I organize more than I write. Not that I'm lacking anyway. Because the problem is...bah.

I've just realized that the problem is, I write and organize the journal entries. But I don't write and organize the book. I see them as one, but the journal entries need to be read and rewritten. They're not directed towards the same audience as that of my book. Which I miss, in a sense. I feel like I want to write a memoir. Maybe I'm pushing myself too hard to be miss perfect philosopher.

I think I have to find an in between. Something warm and honest the way a journal entry is, but also direct and efficient the way a philosophy is.

And this is something that can reflect my feelings of self-worth. It's funny because I feel, now, all the things I used to say. I always knew what to believe, but I didn't believe it so I was always saying it to convince myself that it was true. And that's a problem, of course. Because I have to write about life, and reflect my self-worth within it. I can't write about my self-worth, which is what I would have ended up doing.

I think that I had a fighting attitude. Because I had something to prove about myself. This book needs to be about me, but not about my ego. It needs to reflect a more pure sense of self, one less diluted with my fear and pain.

It's so nice to have this new-found self-worth. It's nice to feel it, I mean. I always felt this urgency. Like everything I believed, I expected that I had to prove it. So I was always ansy, always tense, always at-the-ready to prove something. Just waiting for the chance.

Now I don't have those afterthoughts. I can just Be. Without a followup.

And I asked for Joe, and got him. Rather, I asked for qualifications and Joe showed up. Even the things I don't like about him I know I asked for anyway. Except the fact that he's not rich. I wish for a rich guy all the time. But I'm not going to find one working at the travel plaza or going to the community college, you know?

I miss Joe, though. It's weird. I like who I am when I'm writing and expressing myself. Maybe not enough.

Maybe I'm getting sucked into the simple, comfortable, superficial lifestyle. It's mundane. It's not fulfilling. But it's comfortable. Joe is comfortable. Not fulfilling but comfortable.

Damn. I'm falling asleep. I have to fight this. I have to fight this suppression of my IAm expression. Not that Joe is bad for me. Only that I can't become dependent on the lifestyle he gives me, because it can't be all that there is for me. Like today. He's got school and work and I have the day off, though I'm dedicating it to Isis because it's her birthday !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and she's sleeping over. But I miss Joe and I shouldn't. I shouldn't miss the comfortable simplicity. Complexity is important and it's not controversial for me anyway, so I don't know what I'm afraid of.

I need to at least read. ...