It was Sunday that always got me down. The false pretense of being a weekend day, when really it's the harbinger of back to school/work. You can't stay up too late or drink too much, so it's not really a weekend day now, is it?
After 3 months of near-constant business travel, I think I am home for the rest of the year.
Sometimes, when you feel like everyone around you has gone mad and the wheels are about to come off the jalopy you're in that is hurtling down the highway at 120 mile per hour, all you can do is laugh.
THIS IS MY JOURNAL. THERE ARE MANY LIKE IT BUT THIS ONE IS MINE. MY JOURNAL IS MY BEST FRIEND. IT IS MY LIFE. I MUST MASTER IT AS I MASTER MY LIFE. WITHOUT ME IT IS USELESS, WITHOUT MY JOURNAL I AM USELESS.