Where for art thou? I’ve looked under all of my back issues of Vogue and searched through every episode of Suits yet still you manage to allude me. Can you give me a hint? Is this like a hide and seek thing?
Should I be looking in the backseat of my car or in a packet of marshmallows?
I desperately miss you. I feel “blurgh” without you and it’s sucky. I sit and watch the clock waiting for my lost motivation to come back to me. I think maybe if I meditate on it you will arrive in a dream and fill me with that whole “eye of the tiger” mentality.
But then I start thinking about George Clooney’s Italian wedding, why I bought those fluro pink heels I’ve never worn and whether fabric softener is actually worth it or just another way for the washing powder conglomerates to take our money.
And then I look at the clock and realise it’s been a minute and kind of want to punch myself in the face.
I am the first to admit that when you come knocking at my door I don’t always answer. Yes last Thursday I preferred to sleep in with the BF than get up to go jogging. And the Tuesday before that I got stuck in a vicious cycle of Man Vs Food episodes when I should have been sourcing images for my blog.
I chat with girlfriends when I should be writing and turn down plans with the good intention to schedule posts but end up Googling the top ten things to do in Turkey and whether the weird rash on my bikini line is meningicoccal.
But you see I do have good intentions, I just need you to hold my hand along the way. With you I always feel pumped, psyched and constantly juiced to punch towards my goals and generally kick butt at life. But then I find I get a little antsy because I’ve had no down time and my loved ones keep leaving messages saying “Are you alive, have you been half eaten by Alsatians?” (courtesy of Bridget Jones’s Diary, seriously: read it).
So then I overload on indulgence and you get the flick out the window while I bed down on the couch with my other half, some chocolate and tv that will sooner rather than later rot my brain.
Can we work together here to get me some balance? I’m feeling very Nicki Minaj here, with some much junk in my trunk I am in danger of toppling over!
Please Come Back
Don’t dessert me motivation, I promise I won’t be unfaithful again.
You’re completely right, I don’t need to watch reruns of Friends episodes I can already recite off by heart and I can no longer kid myself that reading a book is the equivalent to writing the one I want to publish.
I realise now that you are here to help me and I promise not to resist you and allow you to inhabit the dreams inside of me and help them to get out. Well that is until the next season of The Bachelor starts but you’ve got to understand that deep down I am weak when it comes to this I tell ya, weak!!
So lost motivation this is my final plea to you. I’ll be waiting with the outside light on. Bring me some inspiration, hope and confidence to get my goals back on track.
Oh and hot chocolate.
Much love and till later.