The Second Best Time

I was excited to come here to write today, not sure why. I wonder what I’ll do here.

I have a number of things on my to-do list that I absolutely have to do, I feel like I’m looking… trailing off because I was distracted finding music and lost my train of thought.

I feel a drive to self improvement, and in it I realize how far that I’ve let myself slip. I keep having to fix my posture, last night I did all of my stretches and it didn’t even occur to me to pick up my medicine ball until I was washing my face for bed.

Looks like I’m starting at the bottom, again.

If you want fruit, the best time to plant the tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.

My Father, but you know he took it from somewhere. I took it from him, and I’ve said it countless times.

I need a new desk. This one makes me slouch, and I like the chair more than the desk. It’s easier to buy chairs though… There are so many things I have to buy <=== first world problems yes, but still I have to get to it. I have yet to buy curtains, and my electric bill was wastefully high last month.

Even if this post is superficial today, I’m still glad I got here, rather than get up and head across town to sleep with some random dude, which is what I did yesterday.

There it is, the turning point. I just wish that every interesting thing didn’t automatically have to implicate someone else. I don’t know why I feel like it does, but as I sit here and write for no one but myself (when did noone get dropped from the dictionary? I clearly remember in 5th grade being taught that this was a word) I realize that I’m the only one making that distinction.

Why am I bored with myself, why do I not find myself interesting enough to deal with?

This post is hard today. I guess I actually am bored of myself. Immediately after recognizing that I hide myself in others, my eyes darted over to my to-do list, I jotted a few things, wrote a song tag, and was just thoroughly done with myself.

Checking my coffee and realizing I may not have enough to finish what I start here, but I wonder about the distinction between myself, my image of self, as a present being – my physical/emotional/intellectual state – and myself as a being being made. I’ve discussed this with my Father (once again, an allusion to others, what in the entire world will I do if I ever lose him) and I believe for once it was me that brought up the point that our aspirations are reflective of who we are, and therefore a part of our present as well as our (contingent upon success) future.

I know what I have to do today.

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