I’ve had bad experiences with coffee the past couple of days. I’m not going to put a moratorium on it like I am for alcohol, because hahahaha I would never live that through, but I do need to confront one kind of dependence issue: I can’t use my lack of natural energy as an excuse anymore. I need to let my body create its own endorphins to get me going and not think that there’s no hope without coffee.
My motivation has been shot so far in the new year. It’s not just me, or so says a person who has still completely outshone me with enthusiasm in a shared project, and it’s part of January as a whole. It’s true – the saddest day of the year was Monday, and while they’re getting longer the days are still short. My utopian society would practice hibernation to ignore this time of year. I weep silently every day when I get out of bed, and there’s been more couch-meet-ass time as I work my way through the entire series of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I wish I could sleep all the time.
But things must go on. I turn to coffee to help, but it doesn’t do the job on its own. My lethargy inhibits me from doing basic things like grocery shopping, so coffee isn’t getting me through much except for slow-moving hours of work even when it’s not, ahem, flushing out my bowels in the manner a 19th century doctor would prescribe.
Somebody put me in a cold shower and slap me. (Not literally, please.) I need to have consciousness to live up to what I’m still somehow doing or in a lucid out-of-body way intend to do. Coffee neither creates nor replaces consciousness. The things I do need to have reason in and of themselves, whether caffeine feigns my enthusiasm or not. Having too much coffee is counter-productive with its effect on my already fidget-prone habits, and/or leaving me stuck on the can in a non-Eureka! kind of circumstances. Give myself a morning pep-talk, accept the fact that if I don’t do something nobody will, and don’t necessarily take the term “coffee break” literally. Do things! Apply myself! Move forward with passion!
But first, couch-meet-ass. ST: TNG.