when did life become all about making money and being comfortable? i know it was before i even got pregnant, but now it just seems more apparent...
i mean, i would love to be able to write as a profession. i wish i still had inspiration to write, but that's besides the point. see, the only way i could really stay home and write was if it could make me a decent living - if it could pay the bills and help support my family.
when did everything become so complicated? i think that's why i lost my inspiration in the first place - it's hard to just write for the enjoyment of writing. it seems almost fruitless unless i'm working on what could one day (hopefully while i'm still alive) become a best-seller...
why, oh why, is idealism lost right around the same time innocence is?