Nothing more that I want than to go back to sleep. I don't want to make a peep. I want to make dreams. My head screams--well it's more like a whine. It's heavy and I can't ever seem to find the time to get my full 8 hours in. I think it takes me much longer to do anything. My mind tends to linger and ponder and grow fonder to just being blank. I can thank meditation for that. I am now typing with my head on the desk. Multi-tasking. I ask a lot of myself as most women do. I put all my goals on the shelf right above my desk as if gazing at them day after day they will grow wings and take flight. I guess any forward movement is good trajectory but if I were to erect a line graph of my progress it would look like long leisurely wedge of swiss cheese. Slow and steady, don't mind the dips--although my head does flips when it's not staying still and I wish that I could just chill or focus or be like those founders that don't need Z's. They work on their projects as if curing disease. I respect that but also know that it could take its toll on you in other ways. Maybe not now, but eventually, when your life is off kilter, you bleed. Or atrophy. You use some parts and get that reputation strong, but your spiritual health is long gone. Or you're super fit and your love life has gone to shit. The question I'm constantly asking myself is am I willing to sacrifice living well in all domains to realign my career to be free to work independently. I'll cradle this thought--it will be my premonition, as I return to my bed in the fetal position.