I just realized that I have this tendency to jot down my thoughts in whatever piece of paper I can find. As I went through the last few pages of my task planner, I came across several scribbles; some were nothing but ramblings and others, such as the one I'm reprinting below, were laced with pretty strong emotions.
"For all I know, Ernest Dale Conway II, I could have some undiscovered mental disorder. Self-motivation is just out of the question when I can't even bring myself to wash my face at night, and when getting up in the morning is a chore. The only level I seek right now is anything higher -- a few inches, maybe -- from this dump I'm in. It's so easy to be philosophical in this regard, Ernest Dale Conway II, so bring it on. Hit me with your best philosophical bullshit. Because I really need it to get out of bed in the morning."
In answer to "Self-motivation is the key to raising a man to any level he seeks." - Ernest Dale Conway II
I'm sorry, Mr. Conway, I was in a less than pleasant place. But hey, I'm better now. So we'll see about scribbling a little something positive in answer to your words, yeah? But now, allow me to get a grip of this happiness -- relief if you may -- and soon, we will write something, something a little less abrasive, rabid and depressing. The world could use more happy people, I always say.
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