Complaints about complaints and excuses.

I don’t have the time. When I do have the time I don’t have the motivation and inspiration and when I do have the motivation and inspiration I don’t have the time. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

I must leave here in forty-five minutes. I have a weekly lunch date with my son, Dexter. I worry about him. I will not miss it and goddamnit I will not be late this time.

That’s not really his name. No, it’s not a nickname from that horrible serial killer show. Sickos. It’s from a cartoon, Dexter’s Laboratory. He used to love that show.

I don’t have time today because I got up late. I don’t even have time to write and do strength training. I can do strength training later today. I could probably write later today in a paper journal and do strength training now, but I think I’m relying too much on the paper journal. Yes, the idea is five minutes of any type of serious writing (exercise, self-reflection, story, etc. …MMA training logs don’t count) and to start with some paper journaling is okay. But the end goal, the real goal, the ultimate goal… is sitting down at the keyboard every day, every morning like a real job (because it will BE a real job, damnit) and writing real stories for the rest of my life. My martial arts are not a career.

 I stayed up too late reading last night. That is not uncommon. I’ve had some stress lately. I’m getting better at dealing with stress and getting my stuff done too; I don’t play video games nearly as much as I did. For instance, the stress has not gone away, but I am still here at the keyboard completing my five minute commitment instead of playing video games until the very last second before I have to leave. But bedtime is still hard. If I’m not completely, totally exhausted when I turn off the light, so that I fall asleep immediately…my brain stews. It won’t shut down. So I can either lie there in the dark not sleeping and being miserable. Or I can lie there with the lamp on, reading Starship Troopers until the book is sliding out of my hands. Last night the sliding started at about 11:30 pm.

Now, some days I can still drag myself out of bed at 4:30 or 5:00 am, but not today. So I did not get to see my husband this morning before he left. And tonight, there will be more stress! That stress is of a certain age that rhymes with spleen, so that's not going away any damn time soon, I MUST FIND A WAY AROUND THIS. I have to take some melatonin tonight. And use some yoga breathing. And do some tai chi before.

I keep going over this, and over this, and over this…this same damn problem of never really enough time. I’m so fucking sick of this. This entry is all complaints and excuses. But I’m getting better, by slowly crawling inches. Well, maybe by millimeters. No, I think we can say inches. I’m getting better. So I got that out of today. I’m getting better, I’m setting my habit, I’m truly facing my ineffectiveness and realizing I really do want to do something about it. That’s progress.

No time for pictures today. That’s hard for me, I really like including pictures and captions. But I have a commitment to Dexter too. Also, I made a commitment to stop being late so often. I need to be on time to things, all things, all the time. Not just some of the time. I know there will be construction traffic and school buses. I need to leave, no time for pictures.