I am useless without responsibilities. My version of self motivation requires an external push and recently I’ve found it easy to ignore the instigators of encouragement. Instigator is a funny word. A rare swamp breed that gets me off my lazy ass. A very persuasive gator, indeed.
I have a thought about moods. About being in a funk or tired or just filled with an inexplicable sense of angst. Rant: initiated. I am certainly guilty of blaming the mood on itself. It’s a little bit of a cyclical excuse. But I think you choose the mood, not the other way around. And this is where we get off, where I get off, explaining away my general disregard for other’s feelings based on the number of hours of sleep I had. It’s the ”I’m on my period so I have free reign to be a total bitch” argument. It’s all a tad bit ridiculous. Nope, you’re being rude because you’re selfish or careless, not because the stars didn’t align that day or you woke up on an usual side of the mattress. I think the worst is, “Don’t take it personally, I’m just a sarcastic person.” No, nope. You’re just a jerk without the gall to face up to your insults. From now on, if I’m going to be curt or blunt or insensitive there will be no, “I’m sorry, I’m tired” apology, but rather, “Whoops, I let the asshole part of my character get the best of me.” Feel free to call me out. Sorry if this rant sounds judgmental. I’m tired.
Oh, the irony.
This commercial made me tear up. Brilliance. Pure genius.
Also, I’ve never lived by myself. But I sort-of am, now.
