As it stands, for the last several days I have been extraordinarily motivated, yet not very driven to write. Thing is, I don't give myself enough time and space to write, but more importantly, is it possible one is out of ideas to even navel-gaze, and can't write any more? Which should be great, on paper because that would mean it's time for fiction, as the possibility space for fiction is infinite. But oh well, that needs time, and you know what they say about time. That no matter how much I got, I ain't getting much.
I've been getting my meals in order, four meals a day, at least two tea-times, often three. Most meals pretty regularly scheduled. It. Feels. Fucking. Fantastic. Does it mean it's the end of my procrastination and all of my other 'issues'? Hell no! But it makes me feel good in the inside, which means it's a start to solving those problems, so I ain't complaining.
It's helped me think better, organize my life better, and I don't have to be on alert all the time about where the next meal might come from, or how I feel so very lethargic for no good reason. Because there can only be two reasons: either I am not full and need to eat, or it's time to drink a cuppa' and see after thirty minutes if I still feel same, which I often don't.
Consistently maintain this for a week or two or three, and ohhh brother, we're cooking a great stew!
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