motivation is a fickle mistress

There’s work I needed to do tonight. I accomplished very little of it. Earlier this evening I was looking forward to it, even excited by the prospect of having a creative outlet… but by the time I actually got down to it, I had lost the spark. I don’t know where it went, I just knew it wasn’t in me anymore. It’s not paying work that needs doing, it’s a personal project that’s been on the back burner for far too long (and through no choice of my own just got placed very much on the front burner — is that vague enough?).

So instead, I find myself still awake at quarter past 12, drinking South African Cabernet, and listening to the Sneaker Pimps. This doesn’t necessarily seem like a bad place to be, overdue projects and pressing deadlines notwithstanding.

This is a recurring theme for me… “the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.” Not just in the arena of work projects, but in so many other ways. I have stupendously good motives most of the time, it’s the follow-through that’s a bit more, shall we say, “lacking.” We could also say “suckass.” Or “fecking useless.” You get the idea.

Still. Sneaker Pimps. Red wine. I could be in much worse places.