I know I wanted to write something to do. One of my New Year resolutions was to write everyday. It only took about 72 hours for that resolution to fall apart. I haven’t even been able to write once a week. Not here, not in my journal, and not in/on any of my “creative” endeavors. I have no excuses. I can only chalk it up to my own laziness. That isn’t to say things aren’t going on in my life that demand attention. None of them though, excuse me from pursuing my so-called dreams. Dreams that have so far been ignored and relegated to the furthest parts of my mind.
Can I really consider them dreams? Actually, that is probably the most accurate term. Dreams are things that just happen, you do not work for them. They are like miracles, asked for but never worked for. Is that the problem? That I do not couch my aspirations as goals or ends to achieve, but, rather as dreams? Is this all a useless argument? One in which the end result is me blaming semantics for my lack of energy? It goes without saying that this little tirade of mine has accomplished nothing and unless I begin to make real changes in my life and how I live (not a total Life make-over, but rather how I approach my goals, beginning with actually approaching them).
Airing my grievances against myself won’t do anything toward that either, I imagine. Seeing them here though on my blog and the accompanying guilt might do something.