The morning is unseasonably brisk. A chill overnight wind cut through the latent September heat, leaving my bed particularly cozy. I had a hard time getting up today.
It is Wednesday, and I have decided to abandon ambition. Grand goals have been thwarted by petty lapses, and the week grows too old to nurture big plans. I need to put one sure foot in front of the other. I need to attend to the little things. Aim small, miss small.
The bane of my self-improvement has been an unholy confluence of gluttony and sloth. I take my ease through eating, and I eat what is easy. Forsaking other well intended paths, I must first succeed in the simple task of eating purposefully. I must not cheat.
My plan is to set aside reason and perspective, embracing the pedantry of accounting for every bite. I hate the tedium. It is antipodal to my nature, which is a validation of sorts.
Today cannot be just another day. It is time to get over the hump. Let's see if I can land this one tiny step.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Another day
My days are politicians. They start hopeful and resolute. They set out to be different; to make a difference. They abound with promises that they rely on me to fulfill.
Tuesday yanked me out of bed with the winning grin of a P.E. coach eager to inflict pain. Get up. You can do it. Read your bible. Center your thoughts. Go for a walk. Start your day, and get ready to do great things.
I read my bible on the throne. My thoughts wandered. I meant to go for a walk. I made a healthy breakfast of eggs and veggie sausage. That's about as good as it got.
I have developed a habit of eschewing work in the mornings. A talent really, more than a habit - a highly developed aptitude born of relentless practice. I take calls and attend meetings and triage emergencies of course, but I actually do very little. I produce almost nothing before lunch. It's rather remarkable. Even when I am sincere in my efforts, I manage to be busy without accomplishing anything real.
Now that I think on it, just about every attempt I make at anything constructive meets with the same fate. I experience, ironically, a kind of treadmill effect where hours spit from my heels without propelling me forward in the least. It is an exhausting sort of torpidity
Thus the morning slipped away. My excellent breakfast left me starving by 10, so I ate what I wanted. I had a bowl of Lucky Charms - a minor slip. One slip lends momentum to the next, however. In sharp contrast to my productivity problem, indulgences compound with surprisingly little effort. Famished by noon from the empty carbs, I discarded any notion of discipline and tore through the fridge like a racoon.
Another day, same as the last. Distinct merely in the flavors and degrees of its failures. Lazy, wayward, and distent. But I have to admit, I really like what I am hearing from tomorrow.
Tuesday yanked me out of bed with the winning grin of a P.E. coach eager to inflict pain. Get up. You can do it. Read your bible. Center your thoughts. Go for a walk. Start your day, and get ready to do great things.
I read my bible on the throne. My thoughts wandered. I meant to go for a walk. I made a healthy breakfast of eggs and veggie sausage. That's about as good as it got.
I have developed a habit of eschewing work in the mornings. A talent really, more than a habit - a highly developed aptitude born of relentless practice. I take calls and attend meetings and triage emergencies of course, but I actually do very little. I produce almost nothing before lunch. It's rather remarkable. Even when I am sincere in my efforts, I manage to be busy without accomplishing anything real.
Now that I think on it, just about every attempt I make at anything constructive meets with the same fate. I experience, ironically, a kind of treadmill effect where hours spit from my heels without propelling me forward in the least. It is an exhausting sort of torpidity
Thus the morning slipped away. My excellent breakfast left me starving by 10, so I ate what I wanted. I had a bowl of Lucky Charms - a minor slip. One slip lends momentum to the next, however. In sharp contrast to my productivity problem, indulgences compound with surprisingly little effort. Famished by noon from the empty carbs, I discarded any notion of discipline and tore through the fridge like a racoon.
Another day, same as the last. Distinct merely in the flavors and degrees of its failures. Lazy, wayward, and distent. But I have to admit, I really like what I am hearing from tomorrow.
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