Ah, Maaaaan...

I've discovered that it's harder to revisit my creative self because of one whopping reason: I am inherently lazy. I haven't always been like this, but I've been like this for so long that it's an addiction. I need an intervention.

It's not that I'm not trying to change. Thanks to the magic of Google Calendars, I now get reminders on my phone every couple of hours for what I should be doing. I have endless scribbles in hundreds of places, titled "To-Do," To-Buy," and "Jobs/Schools/Business Plans." I have a vague plan in my mind of the things I want to do and where I want to be. If you were from the outside looking in, perhaps you'd think I was a gal who had her shit together, but you'd be wrong.

While I knew it would take me at least two weeks to get on board with rigidly scheduling myself, I am astounded at my newly self-observed laziness. I find myself shirking the reminders for "Creative Writing Exercise" and "Work on Blog" for things like TV and Tumblr. I'm not hatin' on my T obsessions, but I am hatin' on the reason I turn to those outlets before I turn to life enrichment.

As I lay awake last night, wondering a million what-if's, then reminding myself those what-if's were so outlandish I should just shut the hell up and go to sleep, I realized I am lazy because I am too afraid to hear myself think. When I hear myself think, I get anxious, excited, motivated, sad, scared, and happy. When I hear myself think, I am at a 10 on the energy scale, no matter what time it is and what I should be doing instead.

I imposed this gross laziness on myself to avoid having to listen to my deepest thoughts. I have to fall asleep with the TV on or else I'll stay awake for three hours, thinking about grad school programs. I have to distract myself on the Internet from the book my mom let me borrow, otherwise I'd spend every waking minute reading it. I have to do dumb, stupid, shallow little things to keep myself from merely imagining.

This sick little diversion, though good while it lasted, can't go on any longer. How can I have good, creative, wild thoughts if I'm blocking out all thoughts? It's going to be quite intense going through the scary, irrational ones, but I'll stand up to those assholes like David did to that brute of a giant. Or ya know, like App did to Michigan. (Represent!)

I'll return soon to drive everyone crazy, but first, I have to go off the deep end myself.

Strugglin'

As a writer, I've had many an encounter with writer's block. It's always inconvenient and hefty, but once you find a tool big enough to crack it wide open, words normally come flowing out, projectile vomit style.

There's another obstacle that I find far tougher to overcome and it shows up much more frequently at my doorstep than ol' blocky block: me.

It's not that I don't have story ideas. It's not that I don't have time. It's that I don't have organization, and most importantly, motivation. Well, at least not at the right times.

Let me illustrate. It's nearing 10 p.m. on a week night, which means I should be asleep or at least thinking about it. To make matters worse, I'm sick and know that the tried and true method of extra rest would really rock my socks off. I'm also listening to my splendid boyfriend snore the most relaxing sounding snores in the history of man. My eyes are dry with exhaustion. OF COURSE THIS IS THE BEST TIME TO WRITE!!!!!!!!!

This is how the connections in my brain work when it comes to writing. I don't know if this plagues my old App pals, too, or if this is just an example of the shitty work ethic I've somehow acquired in the last couple of years. Either way, I'm tired of getting in my own way. The only problem is, well, me.

I know, right? What is all this Inception-esque shit I'm throwing at you? How can the problem AND the solution be me? That's how it is when your creative shit flows from the same place your procrastination tactics do.

Even now, I'm having a hard time forcing myself to write even though writing's what I love and know. I have checked Facebook at least 5 times for no reason. I am forcing myself not to look up at the TV and watch "The Mummy," a film I have already seen at least 405 times due to an inappropriate crush on Brendan Fraser when I was a young girl. I have already caught myself looking at jobs, while productive, is something I should give full dedication to after I've finished what I've started. Self sabotage at it's finest.

It's time to turn off my metaphorical (and actual) TV and get back to my homework. It's time to crack my own whip and get my ass into shape. Here's the plan for the initial two week period, aka long enough to break my seriously horrid habits:

1. Write for an hour every day, even if it is an exercise out of my old creative writing books.
2. While doing so, turn off the TV, don't touch Chrome, and back away from the cleaning supplies. This is just me, the keyboard, and maybe some music.
3. Dedicate at least half of that writing time to this blog.

Alright, folks. A real gonna plan, laid out here for you to follow and help me conquer. If you don't, there's a good chance I'll develop a stutter. P-p-pleeeaaasee don't do this to me!