Boring ass update.
Um, yeah.
After Paris a dense lethargy settled in. I wanted to crawl into a cave. Writing/posting seemed like a huge effort so I avoided it. Our Paris pics remain unposted, our stories have only been told to people we see in person.
There are too many people I've neglected to call or email. I have too many cluttered pasts to deal with. I'm sick of the "I'm so sorry I haven't written sooner" dance. My embarrassment and guilt turn me into a statue and I decide watching TV is easier.
I'm feeling like a computer with too little RAM. I'm running as fast as I can but all I see is lag. My brain is a cuisinart, spinning and slicing and making a fucking mess. I don't remember anything and I don't have the motivation to do anything. I look around and all I see is mess.
I still can't be good, after all these years, and it angers/embarrasses/depresses me.
It's too cold to exercise. It's so nice to just lay around. I know I'd feel better if I did something but I trade it away for the comforts of now.
Doesn't help that we have a temporary roommate....nah, that's just me blaming external forces for what's really just my own failures. Much like saying "Greg doesn't help either" because if I really want to better myself it's up to me and no one else.
It's not about weight, obviously, it's about energy, it's about being able to fall asleep at night, it's about clearing out my brain. I know I think clearer when I've used up my day's calories.
You know in South Park where Cartman is at fat camp and he's secretly selling candy to fat kids...and this kid breaks down and cries because he isn't getting any better...and Cartman talks him into buying a candy bar anyway, so he's crying and eating to feel better? Yeah.
Not that I'm crying. Just wallowing and hating myself because of the wallowing and enjoying the wallowing anyway and hating even more.
Same goes for writing...I keep looking at the Open Mic and feeling like damn, I need to do something...but not doing anything because hey, gotta watch my TV. Damnable fall season. Damn movies I want to watch. Again, blame game.
I can't make up my mind as to what makes me happy. I think no matter what I'd complain. Maybe I need to schedule stuff.
Schedules never work because I have no willpower. If I don't want to do it, I won't. I just have to decide what I really, really want.
All I keep thinking is that right now all I want is to go home and sleep.
After Paris a dense lethargy settled in. I wanted to crawl into a cave. Writing/posting seemed like a huge effort so I avoided it. Our Paris pics remain unposted, our stories have only been told to people we see in person.
There are too many people I've neglected to call or email. I have too many cluttered pasts to deal with. I'm sick of the "I'm so sorry I haven't written sooner" dance. My embarrassment and guilt turn me into a statue and I decide watching TV is easier.
I'm feeling like a computer with too little RAM. I'm running as fast as I can but all I see is lag. My brain is a cuisinart, spinning and slicing and making a fucking mess. I don't remember anything and I don't have the motivation to do anything. I look around and all I see is mess.
I still can't be good, after all these years, and it angers/embarrasses/depresses me.
It's too cold to exercise. It's so nice to just lay around. I know I'd feel better if I did something but I trade it away for the comforts of now.
Doesn't help that we have a temporary roommate....nah, that's just me blaming external forces for what's really just my own failures. Much like saying "Greg doesn't help either" because if I really want to better myself it's up to me and no one else.
It's not about weight, obviously, it's about energy, it's about being able to fall asleep at night, it's about clearing out my brain. I know I think clearer when I've used up my day's calories.
You know in South Park where Cartman is at fat camp and he's secretly selling candy to fat kids...and this kid breaks down and cries because he isn't getting any better...and Cartman talks him into buying a candy bar anyway, so he's crying and eating to feel better? Yeah.
Not that I'm crying. Just wallowing and hating myself because of the wallowing and enjoying the wallowing anyway and hating even more.
Same goes for writing...I keep looking at the Open Mic and feeling like damn, I need to do something...but not doing anything because hey, gotta watch my TV. Damnable fall season. Damn movies I want to watch. Again, blame game.
I can't make up my mind as to what makes me happy. I think no matter what I'd complain. Maybe I need to schedule stuff.
Schedules never work because I have no willpower. If I don't want to do it, I won't. I just have to decide what I really, really want.
All I keep thinking is that right now all I want is to go home and sleep.