Upward reflection
Today's wiki article: Descension.
If there's one thing I hate about myself, it's my lack of discipline. I hate it.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
I go to bed and want to get up early to try and enjoy my day, and I endure all six minutes of my alarm with a varying degree of consciousness, or, worse yet, get up, walk across the room and turn it off, then promptly fall back asleep.
Why?
Because I didn't have anything to "really" wake up for. Apparently the innermost cloister of my being is one hundred percent okay with waking up at 1:30 in the afternoon.
Regulating the diet is another great example. I have a noted habit of lugging around a massive drink of some variety...this more often than not pertains to a 32/44 oz. fountain soda---a staggeringly high amount of calories.
I've been toying with the idea of replacing massive sodas with massive diet sodas; it's scarcely relevant anyway, since 75% of the time spent is rigorously munching on ice. But I can never get too far with the plan...I mean, it works fine at first, then I opt for the "regular" drink on the grounds of some sorta 'special occasion.'
Then the occasions get less special.
Then, the special occasions turn less from excuses...into...excuses. And again.
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of myself.
I want to purge everything from myself. Every last bad habit. Every nuance I've ever wanted to claw my skin off over. I want to enjoy my life for what it is as a whole, not for isolated moments at a time. I want to study for the trip. I want to make more friends. I want to keep my current friends, too. I want to lose weight. I want to sleep better. I want to follow through. I want to improve myself.
I want to have discipline.
Every day is a battle...I'm sure we all know the feeling...I feel like the enemy is squarely inside of me. Even if I were to subdue it, I feel that I can never rest, that true victory will never bring itself about. And when all's said and done, and I still have the day---the outside world---to face...there is something seriously wrong with that.
But even if everyone stopped believing in me, there'd still be some faint glimmer of hope. I'm doing the best I can, and I think...no, I know, that all this writing, the trip, my friends, my family, everything I can remember and build upon...is a potential step in the right direction.
If there's one thing I hate about myself, it's my lack of discipline. I hate it.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
I go to bed and want to get up early to try and enjoy my day, and I endure all six minutes of my alarm with a varying degree of consciousness, or, worse yet, get up, walk across the room and turn it off, then promptly fall back asleep.
Why?
Because I didn't have anything to "really" wake up for. Apparently the innermost cloister of my being is one hundred percent okay with waking up at 1:30 in the afternoon.
Regulating the diet is another great example. I have a noted habit of lugging around a massive drink of some variety...this more often than not pertains to a 32/44 oz. fountain soda---a staggeringly high amount of calories.
I've been toying with the idea of replacing massive sodas with massive diet sodas; it's scarcely relevant anyway, since 75% of the time spent is rigorously munching on ice. But I can never get too far with the plan...I mean, it works fine at first, then I opt for the "regular" drink on the grounds of some sorta 'special occasion.'
Then the occasions get less special.
Then, the special occasions turn less from excuses...into...excuses. And again.
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of myself.
I want to purge everything from myself. Every last bad habit. Every nuance I've ever wanted to claw my skin off over. I want to enjoy my life for what it is as a whole, not for isolated moments at a time. I want to study for the trip. I want to make more friends. I want to keep my current friends, too. I want to lose weight. I want to sleep better. I want to follow through. I want to improve myself.
I want to have discipline.
Every day is a battle...I'm sure we all know the feeling...I feel like the enemy is squarely inside of me. Even if I were to subdue it, I feel that I can never rest, that true victory will never bring itself about. And when all's said and done, and I still have the day---the outside world---to face...there is something seriously wrong with that.
But even if everyone stopped believing in me, there'd still be some faint glimmer of hope. I'm doing the best I can, and I think...no, I know, that all this writing, the trip, my friends, my family, everything I can remember and build upon...is a potential step in the right direction.