Motivation

Helluva thing isn't it? Motivation, I mean. Sometimes it's just... there. You get everything done, plus a dozen other things you hadn't planned to do. Boredom comes from a lack of tasks to complete rather than staring at a daunting list miles long. Feels like you're on top of the world and nothing can tear you down.

Until something inevitably does. Then you sit on the bottom, looking up at the pillar from which you've toppled with a sense of longing that feels centuries old. The most ancient possible fact that could assault your senses. There is everything to be done, but nothing to be done about it. Too tired to be productive and yet too guilty to derive pleasure from the squandered time.

This is where last week's post went. Lost under that pile of filth labeled as 'obligation.' It crosses my mind to perform the task. I have the time to do it when the thought occurs. The problem is... I simply don't. Not because I'm busy, but because my brain refuses to do something that I acknowledge is simple, brief, and will bring me satisfaction after completion. Real bastard, my brain is.

That said, I've maintained the minimum of getting down at least two pages of the current story each day. The one standard I've yet to let fall. I hope for all I'm worth that it's a pattern I can maintain until my last breath. I enjoy it far too much to consider any other outcome. Perhaps I need to look into moving somewhere that consistently warm. A place where I can just walk outside and cook under the sun at any time of year. Something to ponder, I suppose.

Toodles.