Good afternoon, World 🙂
It’s been eight days, how the hell have you been? I got a bit overloaded with work again, but whatever. At least I’m busy.
Whenever I miss a spate of a few days, I feel the tiny urge to be like “Fuck it, I shouldn’t be doing this, this is pointless.” But I don’t listen to this urge because I don’t actually believe that.
This, this right here? This snapshot of my coffee and a daily little spiel about whatever I’m feeling? It’s actually hard. I feel like, “Who the hell are you, to think anyone cares about your daily yammering?”
Posting forces me to reach out. I can’t retreat into my cocoon. I have to say something daily, put myself out there, even if the contents of my consciousness are as thought-provoking as deciding what to cook for dinner. The discomfort I experience through expressing myself is necessary, because how the hell are you supposed to challenge yourself without discomfort?
I don’t want to be someone who runs away from challenges with tears dribbling down my cheeks, or makes endless excuses for why I can’t follow through on my ambitions. Every day, I decide what kind of week this will be. Do I want this week to be productive, fulfilling, and a gift to myself and my family? Or do I want to squander it with procrastination and misspent effort?
So here’s the plan of action for this week:
- Do sun salutations every day. A few of these batboys will get you feeling awesome.
- Post almost every day. I missed one day this week already, but there’s no use in throwing the rest of the week away.
- Edit 10 pages every day.
How about you, World? Are you catching up on old shit, or are you up to something new?