Sometimes it takes a herculean effort just to care. Sometimes nothing works until utter boredom with myself sets in and I grasp at ropes of sheer determination and begin to pull myself out of the quicksand in which I've plunged myself...Boredom has always been the enemy to avoid at all costs. In my younger, smugger years I used to say, "I'm never bored; there are so many things to do and learn. If you're bored, you're probably boring." I attributed boredom to a lazy mind, the plague of people who are not enlightened, nor who care to improve themselves. It was a weakness of character. In the past five years I've eaten those words so many times, I can even tell you which wine helps them go down the easiest.
After a full week of doing nothing, of having my ass planted on the bed, I awoke this morning completely bored with myself and my life. I have come to the conclusion that I seriously need to change something. I need to buckle down and write, to be firm with myself, especially when writing is the last thing I feel like doing. No more excuses. I feel like Luke Skywalker who can't seem to raise that damned X-Wing out of the swamp.
"Do, or do not.
There is no try."
Yoda
So I've decided not even to ask myself if I feel like writing. Chronic fatigue is a bitch, but it will not sap my blood and steal from me the time that I have left in this life. I'd rather storm out exhausted, having done what I set out to do than sink slowly, lugubriously, passively, without a fight. This will be a writing weekend. Nothing else matters, because it if I give into the quicksand it will pull me down to a point of no return.
