Naturally, deep in my heart, I'm a procrastinator. I've probably said that at least ten times...or hundred times, it doesn't matter. I am. Though, this time, it's not entirely my fault or at least I will try and convince you it's not.
I've been working out!
Certainly not my results and certainly not me...
though our breasts are comparable.
Compelled into giving an actual, healthy disposition on life a chance, I've taken to working out everyday. Anyone who has read this infernal babbling might remember me giving the "Insanity" workout a go. Inevitably, I failed. Ever so quickly, I dismissed my hasty exit from fitland and abrupt retreat into fatdom as a symptom of my defeatist mentality, instilled in me by 90's grunge music and it's angst filled poppy rhythms.
I was of course lying to myself. "Fat is what fat does.", according to Forrest Gump, if he were a morbidly obese version of himself...eating a turkey drumstick.
Like this...only Forrest Gump and less classy.
Fast forward a couple of unproductive months and "Insanity" again, rears it's perfectly sculpted abs. I folded, in the direction of exercising, not fat laziness. So, now, I am one month into it. Which I believe is further than I've ever gotten with exercising regularly...ever. It's proof positive that miracles happen everyday and more often than not, soak towels with sweat and make you swear at the t.v.
I've Been Working!
Who would have thought,
that the place where dreams go to die,
would be so well lit?
As of late, I am employed. I am extremely sad about it. Unfortunately, as jet setting and glamorous as unemployment is, it doesn't pay very well. So, in the spirit of decency, responsibility and good ol' productive citizenship, I got a job. Hold your applause, it's a shitty job. Though, aren't they all? Well, with the exception of "professional money collector/spender" all of them pretty much fucking suck.
Though, this one doesn't pay well and has a tendency to suck happiness directly from my soul, with what I imagine is a silly straw, it is also a huge consumer of my time. Albeit, the attention I've given to coming up with a schedule to manage my time properly has been taken up by Netflix and an Xbox, the job doesn't help.
It's weird that this idea isn't producing any actual light. Strange.
Much like a car smoking it's tires, my wheels are a'spinnin' and I'm going nowhere with them. I have had tons of ideas lately. I thought up a more entertaining podcast, to go with the OTHER podcast...both of which I'm not doing yet. Plus, I thought I'd try making a graphic novel out of my "Makeshift Theatre Brigade" characters and see how that works out. Still haven't done that yet. Oh, and a novel...about heaven...that I never seem to write. Things are humming in my head, but, instead of producing, it's just a noise.
Normally, I would carve out a nice little bit of self loathing, curl up inside of it in a fetal position and wallow like a duck with it's head trapped in a plastic bag...drowning. Fuck that, however. I'm going to give it a shot. All of it.
How do I know?
Because I'm getting back into this mother mc'fuckin' blog again...and if I can do that, I can do all of that other shit.
Oh, and I'm going to do more Hubpages. Forgot about those.