‘Tis The Season To Be (Un)Motivated

Writing

Has everybody’s motivation to do something productive been pretty much thrown overboard, and chained to a concrete block the size of a small car destined to sink to the bottom of the Mariana Trench never to see the light of day again?

Or is that just me?

As a human being I like to take the easy road, watching TV and eating cake seems like a  much more viable option than scratching my head over a 12-paged tax form, or job application, or be it pretty much anything these days. 

And has the shame set in? You can answer that yourself. 

Infact, even the simplest of tasks have become a strain, signing a birthday card feels like I’m signing away a piece of my own unmotivated flesh. Making dinner feels like I’ve opened the gates of Hell. Sweating profusely over a stove morning, noon and night because you’ve had to substitute for your mum, who is such a fantastic cook that she manages to burn water. I  might as well stick my head in the oven for the amount of times I’ve been scraping the overcooked rotisserie chicken off the back of it these days! 

You may grimace at my squabbling over life’s little pleasures, while I assure you my face remained motionless on the date on which I conjured this jargon up. Expressionless, as my heart pours these words onto this page like spilled milk on the breakfast table. 

At least I’ve been somewhat productive on a microscale, I suppose. Wrapping up overly-expensive gifts for someone you mildly like in your family must stand for something right? Wearing pyjamas on a 5-day streak must be medal-worthy, no? Oh, who asked you anyway!

I’ve found myself recently trying to find the positive in the tiny achievements. Small steps at a time. It’s the only way I’ve been keeping my head out of the sand, out of the clouds and out of the oven I mentioned to you earlier if you’d be so kind to remember. 

Let me lay out some examples for you before I become unmotivated to write anymor…….

Poem – ‘Try’

Writing

Swallowing pride,

Suppressing suggestions of surrendering,

To the doubts damning me from within.

 

An attempt to achieve,

Guised more as an attack on my ego,

Failure must be coupled with Cheshire cat’s grin. 

 

To try,

An action well-known to the brave.

Yet not even an acquaintance of I nor him. 

 

Trying to try,

Should be an accolade in itself,

With the focus on winning being second to this.