You know, I've been doing this my whole life, talking about the things I should be doing and trying to psyche myself into doing them. I wish I knew how to get from planning to implementation.

I recently put up some 1990 era diary entries. They were painful to read. Partly because back then I was reading too much Dickens and Poe and recounted my day-to-day mundane with melodramatic prose as if writing David Copperfield. But also because of the fact that except for the wording, not much has changed. I'm as self-absorbed as ever. I still talk a lot and do little. I'd still rather clothes my eyes and dream of distant worlds than put pen to paper and make them real.

I'd like to think that I'm about to make lasting changes, but I've been having this same conversation with myself for twenty five years. I know all too well just how full of shit I am.