Reflecting on complete failure.

It's been a while since I've been so dis-interested, about one of my own ideas that I am the one responsible for it's death. Dinner club is a potentially amazing idea, but after two long weeks of goofing around with business cards, and losing drive from constantly being busy outside of school, dinner club is dead.

With three weeks we didn't even find out if it's feasible, I bought a fresh gallon of milk and let it sit on the shelf in my fridge and expire without ever even opening it. The more I write the more I begin to hate myself, not much but just a little bit. Sometimes I can be so ambitious and motivated with a project, I invest tons of time and effort, go beyond what's expected only for my satisfaction. Then I just let something die in front of me without even looking at it twice. It's not that big of a deal, honestly it's not so much about this project, but more about the thought of this lack of ambition is what I am reverting to.

It feels good just to say out-loud that I'm a failure, it's like freeing in a strange way. I'm moving onto a new project, not sure what yet but I am. I want to do way better this time, and I want to go outside the bounds of the school,