I just want to write, write, write. I just don't know what to write about. I think though that if someone I look down on in a way can write a book, even a woe-is-me book about her life, so can I. I CAN. I just don't know how to start.

I've been having all sorts of vivid, weird dreams lately. Little bits and pieces of my day's thoughts come to life at night. The stories are often comforting.