Lazy

It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm sorry I've been MIA. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. We've been moving offices at my job and I know that has contributed to my absence. Other than that? I can't say. I don't have a good excuse. Laziness? Exhaustion? Apathy? Pick one. I don't know what's up but I am NOT lovin it, McDonald's, I am not lovin it.

I'm pretty sure I have a disorder. I would like to go ahead and name it now: I'm calling it sleepaholism. I am addicted to sleeping. I don't know why, but it's like it's impossible for me to drag myself from bed in the morning any earlier than is ABSO-LUTELY NECESSARY. "It's becoming a problem," says my waistline that hasn't been to the gym. "It's becoming a problem," says my hair that hasn't been brushed in days. "It's becoming a problem," says my attitde, that is barely above conciousness.

I've been telling myself that things will change once we get in the new building. I've got myself convinced that once I get in a new routine that I'll get it together, that I'm just waiting until the move, then I'll get back in shape. Sigh, I'm starting to wonder if it's all just excuses. If really I have no motivation, no desire to better myself. That laziness has finally overtaken me. No! Please no!

And as this laziness enters, my creativity seems to slip out the back door. It's like it sees that Lazy coming in the front and bolts for more fertile minds in which to plant its seeds. You are mine, Creativity! Do not abandon me now!

It's not that I don't have ideas. I have plenty of ideas, tons of ideas, a plethora of ideas. But single ideas? They might make good Twitter posts but they don't make good blogs, good stories, or good books. These ideas, they come to me in little bursts, but I can't seem to put them together to make more than just that, little ideas. So I write them down, I keep track. I guess I'm hoping that one day they will all fit together and all these little ideas will make one big story. The story that changes my life. Until then, well, I'll keep writing them down. I'll keep thinking. I'll keep waiting, till the fire to write consumes me again. When I get in that fire nothing stands in my way. I burn and burn and burn, all in my path.

Now excuse me, I can feel a sugar rush from my smoothie from lunch taking over. I must go.