I have these moments when I want to write about anything at all. Write something, I scream in my mind, and yet still my head does wander. I have a Saturday night group based on Sydney Banks’ theory of health realization. In the group, I feel comfortable with a few people, it begins to take on a philosophy. These are all things I like to read about and always something I wish I might write about. But it takes such effort to find myself in the state of mind to do such. So, I set myself up on all ends to feel the pressure of some expectant moment in my life to take hold, and lead me in the right direction. In the meantime I am doing all the things I’m supposed to in society, so why am I so self-critical? I ask myself that question far too often. And it permeates into my consciousness and my daily thought process.