According to the app, this was actually day 30, week 8 of my 17-week plan. And to say it's surprising I'm still doing this is an understatement. It's unbelievable.
I used to wake up every day at 7, but I didn't actually wake up. My brain remained sleeping, thinking of my pillow, telling me how deliciously warm my blankets are. So I'd feed the cats, maybe catch up on the Whatsapps of the evening past and then fall back into bed the moment my boyfriend left for work. Then wake up all over again realizing I was
First interval: great, I'm way below the expected pace, I'm getting the hang of this shit! I'll be doing 5k tomorrow. In reality, why am I not just going for the 5k run? I clearly can handle it!
Second interval: oh, fuck, my knee hurts. But I'll power through it. I'm a born athlete, as we saw earlier.
Hi there, people!!!
It's a reality. If you're too happy you don't get much done.
Let's all be miserable together and get shit done.
Why is it so hard to actually write something decent?
I just read the most ludicrous research on how writing makes people better from diseases and whatnot. It said there that people who write regularly have less Asthma attacks.
That's because they're not outside playing ball games, or sitting in the park being ganged up by polen.
But I guess that's besides the point. I should focus on actually writing something, instead of whining about it.
The thing is, I sometimes hate writing. Especially when I HAVE TO write. That's when it's hateful.
I need to get this blog post done. I hate it already.
I have to finish that book i started. Hate the book.
I had an amazing idea for a short story, I must write it down! Press the 'dislike' button.
So, this is not happening. I'm not writing this post. This is not it. This is not that post. It's just whining and complaining. I'm not writing that post.
And here's a picture of a cat, because, why not.