The struggle is real.
I am trying to get going and get my energy level up and firing forward. All I wind up doing is hanging out with family. There is a large place for that, but I also need a place for getting my work done too. This is my lifelong struggle. This is my Waterloo. This is my moment to decide how the next forty or so years go. I gotta get it right. I gotta get me right.
Let’s look at the tale of the tape: I’m low on ideas, big on excess fat and gluttony. Any good writer starts a project hungry. I believe the hunger is what keeps us motivated for lack of other motivations. I have stories–some good–but I also have a life that drains away a lot of the attention that ought to go to writing. Just moments before I touched finger to keyboard my mid kid wandered in to let me know how bored he was. My little always needs attention and my big is so locked into a world of video games that I feel bad not spending more time prying him away. This is without bringing up the coaching stuff (and the failures and hunger to be good at that). This is without looking into my own love of gaming and how much that has faded due to inability to put any real time and thus excitement behind the endeavor.
All of these reductions and I’m still struggling with getting going. In truth I feel like I am fading–finding less and less joy in the things that once drove me and finding less and less time to fix the problem. Instead I fall into TV show after TV show. Some are worth the time. Some are simply escape routes from what is real and what needs doing.