E = MC²?

An Object at rest...

Will remain at rest, until a sufficient force is created to overcome its inertia and set it in motion. Necessity, you see, is the mother of Invention; and Procrastination is the bastard son of a lack of said Need.

To relate -

My writing. Too many instances have occurred, past, present, and no doubt, future; where something has struck me as being -Something I should/could write up-. But as I've mentioned, the deed smells too much like work to be relished, and more often than not, frivolous activities are then taken up instead. I well understand the benefits of undertaking the task: Much-needed practice in actual writing as opposed to simply article ideas. Sorting out of thoughts. Something to potentially use, in future, as a writer.

My exercise. I'm relatively sure this is one everyone shares. Nobody wants to be fat, and each time a well-sculpted body goes by, this weird emotional cocktail of admiration, envy, and guilt is served. Admiration is straightforward enough. Envy sets in after, and guilt, when we think about all the put-off working out that could well have yielded similar results.

My smoking. Like a frickin' chimney, and gods know I can't afford it, at least financially. Definitely, I know I could be healthier, live longer and avoid malicious diseases for the quitting of it. Yet it's still just one half-hearted resolve after another, someof which last shamefully for mere hours.

My finding of a job. It started off enthusiastic. Classifieds every day, JobStreet.com, etc, etc. Then slowly, as the listings each day resolutely remained those of which I was either not interested, or interested and not qualified for, being uneducated and all, the enthusiasm waned. Just about 4 months, now. A quarter of a year, unemployed. Wow.


Something needs to be done.


The blog helps with the first, I guess, though I practically had to mentally bludgeon myself into starting this post. Having seen results with the weights, I'm actually not doing too bad with consistency there, though I still skip days sometimes. The smoking...um. And I haven't read yesterday's Classifieds yet.

What's actually scary about this, really, is that I can afford to go on like this for a while, yet. I've miraculously still got some money left. "Ok, this is going to be my last pack." . It's not like I'm getting all that fat, and fuck, who's going to read my writing anyway?

This has actually been a useful self-conversation. I feel better already. =) I just really, really hope, that I can be enough of a force to set myself in motion.