Whenever I set a goal for myself, I become obsessed. I eat, sleep, & drink it. It’s all or nothing for me.

In college when I was prepping myself to tour with the Bellydance Superstars, I spent so much time practicing my hip undulations that I failed Arabic 101. The irony was that I tried to learn the Arabic language in order to understand the lyrics of the music that I shimmied to. It didn’t work out.

When I aspired to be a boxer, I spent three hours a day at the gym. I would have gone home after the first two hours, but my trainers thought I was fat so they made me run on the treadmill. I am overweight but my husband says that I have a nice shape.

Now that I want to be a comedian, I spend every available second of my day reading about how to become a comedian. Everything I read tells me to write. A lot. Write down anything and everything. Words that I find funny. Things that are unusual. Events that are so incredibly mundane that the simple act of writing them down could be considered a joke (like my job maybe?).

This is the reason that I imposed the small goal of writing a mindless ramble every day. Considering the amount of thoughts that I have on a daily basis, it surprises me how difficult this task is. It’s 8:30 PM and I stare down at a blank sheet of paper. My iPad, rather. In a way, I am experiencing writer’s block.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to write about. Oh, there’s plenty, perhaps too much. So much. I’m overwhelmed. Everything hangs on the line with this post. All of my hopes and dreams could be realized, or crushed, in 333 words. Where do I begin? So many ideas… I don’t know what to write about first, so I’ll just keep reading. Just so that I’m doing something.

But who ever became famous by reading?