Sometimes I’m half-filled with ambition. And by half-filled I mean half-assed. I get home from work, eat a snack (or several), watch an hour of TV (or several) and then sit on my bed with a notebook and pen to start work on a blog. What usually happens next is this:
Me: I only have 10 episodes left of Dexter season 8.
Me: Oh shit yeah! My favorite episode of American Dad is on, the one where Roger says “If I eat one more piece of vomit pie I’m going to pumpkin.” I’ve seen it 20 times. My life would have no meaning if I didn’t watch it for the 21st time.
Me: This book I brought home from the library (the one I spent 15 minutes “checking for rips and tears” while actually reading the first chapter) looks really good. I’ll spend the next 3 hours inhaling it.
This is what really happens:
The library book gets buried in my nest of blankets, there’s an open bag of M&Ms hiding the TV remote, my notebook and pen went flying off the bed and onto the floor when I made a grab for the bag of M&Ms, and I fall asleep 20 minutes into an episode of Dexter. With my contacts still in. And an M&M down my shirt.
That’s the end of a typical work day with that half-assed ambition whispering in my ear: “Jesus Christ, get your shit together.” Actually, that voice spits in my ear. My ambition voice is one of those people who spit when they talk and I spend the time listening to them and thinking “Shit, shit, shit. Some of their spit hit me on the cheek! Be polite, try to make it look like you’re casually going in for a cheek scratch and then when their eyes move away you scrub that cheek with your sleeve like Silkwood getting scrubbed down.”
Last night I heard the exhausted spitting voice of ambition and brought my notebook and pen to bed, wrote down the title of the blog I wanted to write and then spent an hour re-watching the episode of Dexter and thinking about the bag of chocolate chips in the fridge. Ambition spit on me. I deserve some TV and chocolate.
There’s always tomorrow night after work to write….