To-Do: Write Blog Entry

I am a list person. I write to-do lists for the pleasure of crossing items off (preferably with a black sharpie) once they are completed. The sense of accomplishment that I derive from the simple act of taking that black marker through a chore that, on at least some level, I have been dreading, provides enough motivation to complete these tasks. In fact, sometimes I include chores that I have already suffered through (preferably, but not necessarily, within the immediate past) just so I can have some tangible recording of the accomplished task (and the thrill of blacking it out into oblivion with my sharpie).

I am finding that, as of late, I am unable to motivate to do anything that, on its face, is less than obviously pure pleasure, without the aid of my motivational crutch of the to-do list. I suppose this is a natural outcome of the absence of few real obligations dictating the parameters of my day. This is a “problem” (if that is even the right word) born from a lifestyle of true indulgence. There is no job to wake up for (too often before my body was ready), no social commitments that come from having a well-established social life (mostly a pleasure, but occasionally a burden), no one relying on me to take care of their needs (with the exception of at least 2 daily bathroom trips outside for the dogs and a nightly watering of the herb garden).

There is only the ridiculous self-indulgence of my immediate desires and the occasional feeling of obligation to make the most of this borrowed leisurely lifestyle (for it will inevitably have to end at some point). The whole point of this break, was, after all, to try and figure out a better way to live, i.e. enjoy life while managing to generate enough income to reliably pay the bills.

I would get an A for mastering the good living part of the equation, but am discovering some ugly truths about myself with regard to my ability to motivate. I have been marching through life constantly up-selling my abilities, to myself and others, believing that I am capable of doing pretty much anything (though I gave up on the idea of being an Olympic figure skater in my mid-20's and am resigned to the fact that I probably will never serve as a member of Congress), if only given the opportunity. I believed that I possess a limitless amount of energy and enthusiasm and that that alone could compensate for a lack of experience, education, fluency in the local language, etc. I am not sure whether this attitude was always misguided but, in any event, I now feel like I am missing that crucial variable in the equation- my endless supply of energy.

For example, as much as I would like to believe that I am equally gifted at executing my plethora of ideas (S. calls me an idea machine) as I am at generating them, I find myself unable to put into motion all the steps that are required for realizing my dream job. I am a master of procrastination and find myself too often content to wile away my day on the couch, watching reruns of the Office, as my to-do list grows stagnant. And here I am, living a life of opportunity, no excuses for not making my dreams come true, and yet I don't. Perhaps it is the other side of the adage “necessity is the mother of invention”- absence of necessity is the father of inertia, or something like that. 

 Anyway, writing this blog was on my to-do list for the last week- at least I can now check it off.