I have decided that I am going to will myself to write something here every bloody day just to keep my fingers accustomed to striking keys. I have become so apathetic and lazy with my writing that each time I open my computer and launch Word, I stare at the white wasteland of a new document window until drops of blood form on my forehead.
Inspiration is not something that comes easily to me. Normally I must wait for outside influences, typically in the form of soul-destroying heartache, to force my hand. Considering that I am in a fairly stable relationship I must therefore either sow seeds of discontent (a process in which I am nothing short of an enlightened master) or look elsewhere for my angst fuelled creative impulses.
Last-minute panic is also a recognised deep well of motivation and one which I sampled liberally from during my years before the higher mind. Unfortunately the repercussions for failing to update scantly read blog entries do not compare to the seemingly life threatening consequences inherent in missing a term paper deadline in grad school.
Which leaves me with only one fallback: inner motivation. My capacity for which could fit inside a matchbox without having to remove the matches. Without a clear goal I just don't see the point in doing anything at all. Indeed it is only the fear of a deathbed review of a wasted life which prevents me from forgoing gym memberships, tennis, photography, all forms of social interaction, travel and shaving for beer, a wife-beater shirt and daytime TV.
Having set myself a goal of daily postings may trick my nearly atrophied brain into believing that it has to produce some sort of reasonably coherent drivel before it can shut down and wander randomly through YouTube videos.
Whether or not this ruse will pay dividends in the long run will, of course, remain to be seen. At the moment I'm running late and analysing the finer points of this new strategy will have to wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment