Life. It [Continues]

Inspiration comes. Inspiration goes.
Sometimes I'm lazy. Sometimes I'm cool.
These days..these months.. life has been a lot of going and sleeping and working and eating so I'll face the truth right here. I've been quite uninspired, lazy, and un-cool.

Just in case you were counting on a mental picture, this pound of fat that has nestled in on the flabs of my love handles can attest to my self deprecation. The beauts are a living testament and everyday reminder that when the calories come in, sometimes the calories rest where the burner does not light.

It's the summer effect. I've been so wrapped up in tanning to the perfect complexion, working, and obsessing over removing all traces of dust and dirt from my bedroom that I've neglected my...well..passion. Strong word. Yeah. And I don't like to just throw that around. But I've realized that writing is what I want to do. So it makes me crazy when I go for months without doing what I want...what I should..be doing.

I'm talking about writing. Again. And being lazy. Again.

Sorry, it is getting old. And I hope it doesn't make me sound amateurish.
(Actually it's probably no worse than the fact that I just used the word amateurish and talked about love handles)
(Which I don't have by the way)
(Never will have)
(Do not want)
(And pray to keep my metabolism)
(...I'm a faithful person)

But stop. Who gives a shit?
Love handles and all of the above aside, I've decided right now I'm about to turn this piece around faster than a Dr. Drew rehab stint.
So I haven't written in months. Big deal.
You (and I mean this in no ways to be directed at YOU but rather at ME) can watch me bemoan about my existence, complain over my shortcomings, listen to me drag on and on about myself and my narcissistic, self-centered, woe-is-me, I'm a failure kind of thoughts.. OR.. I can pretend that the last 200 words didn't exist and you...ME...will move on.

My "meta-writing" can be out of the way.
I can stop throwing swear words around.
I can pretend I didn't just spend the last 30 minutes typing to myself.

I'd rather that. And good thing it didn't take too long for the "ah-hah" moment, because now that I've gotten the obligatory cursing of my self and poor motivations off the checklist, I can return to writing things that make me laugh and make me smile and make me wonder what variation of acid I had raging through my system as I read my blog days after I write.

I'll just leave it at that. And hope - that now begins a new phase.