In the Mud



I am absolutely stuck.

It’s about ten thirty at night as I lazily type long-winded phrases in the hopes that they total up about five hundred words of something that resembles a singular coherent thought. The weight of the week rests so heavily on my shoulders that I just do not feel like figuring out a topic to scribble/type out my self-inflicted daily word count for today. I just do not have it in me today. I should be almost done by now. Normally, I should be at about four-hundred or four-hundred and fifty words by this time at night.  The key word here is “should” as I am not even at three-hundred words, and it is very nearly midnight.

Sorry to anyone who actually follows my daily five-hundred word bogs.

The writing, the good writing with quality substance, is just not happening, folks. I can try, but there is a possibility that five hundred words will not be typed by the time midnight rolls around.

I won’t force it either as I am a firm believer in not forcing words when words will not transfer from my head onto the screen or page.

Normally, I’ve had at least two-hundred fifty words figured out by this time at night and figured. I’ve gone to the gym or jumped on the treadmill by now. Unfortunately, I just cannot figure about the motivation to figure out the right words to say. If I was on top of my normal routine,  I would have scribbled out the beginning of some sort of an idea, about one-hundred words or so, before I drove to the gym or worked out at home. On this particular Friday, I just cannot figure out the correct words to say. I don’t know what I should be talking or typing about. There is nothing that is inspiring me to scribble out something of meaningful substance to post for the masses that follow the various blog posts on the website.

On top of this, I still have to do my daily work-out.

My Monday through Friday obligations are pretty simple. Get up, throw on clothing, paint my sleepiness over with as much make-up as my face can take, go to work, work, go home, eat, work out, type out my daily blog, and go to bed to repeat the process. Hell, my weekends usually proceed in a similar fashion. I try to plan out my blog ahead of time, but that rarely seems to work out in the long run. If I am a little bit ambitious, I will be able to get out about two-hundred words of a good solid idea regarding something that affected me that particular day. Unfortunately, there are some days where life and its obligations stress me out so much that I avoid even my self-inflicted daily obligations to ease my stress.

It’s Friday, and I just cannot find the effort to finish out my self-inflicted obligations.

I just want to relax and rest today.


No Risk, No Reward


No pain, no gain.

We have all heard this statement a lot in our lives. It’s a phrase most commonly uttered either during a work-out and other intensive athletic activities or muttered prior to anything physical to motivated your body into motion. In order to gain physical advancement or a trophy from an athletic contest, you have to be willing to face whatever type of risk caused by your physical activities.

The pain is the risk of the work-out.

If you refrain from exerting any sort of effort, you will be spared the pain. When you take the chance in physical activities, you take a big risk for yourself. Most obviously, you risk getting hurt. If you are a runner, you could fall and twist your ankle.  You could pull a muscle on the elliptical at the gym. If you compete, you can also risk your own self-esteem.  When you play in the big game, you could lose and feel the stinging pain of defeat instead of the sweet taste of victory. There are so many potentially horrific outcomes in putting yourself out there physically that you start to question going anywhere near the starting line and wonder if you should even show up to the race.

Is the risk worth the reward?

Why try anything in this life if there is even the slightest possibility that there is a less than favorable outcome. If something you would try brings with it any sort of potential to go wrong, is it worth moving forward when you cannot guarantee that success is one-hundred percent?  A lot of times in live, we question whether the risk is worth the reward at all. The greater the risk and higher the odds are that whatever task we set out to do will go wrong, the more we start to question if trying is worth it. Why do we try to succeed if we could possibly fail?

Because no pain means no gain. As cliché as it sounds, it’s one of the truest phrases in the English language.

I am an extremely anxious person.  I am constantly over thinking any sort of situation I could potentially be in. Risks and the potential for situations to fail are much more apparent to the over-thinking mind of someone with anxiety.  I can find the possibilities for failure in almost any situations, and this has unfortunately kept me from putting myself out there in situations more often than I am proud to admit. In college, it was so bad that I would just sit in my dorm room instead of going anywhere. I was afraid of something going wrong in merely stepping out of my building that I didn’t try to leave. I used to be that nervous.

Still, I move forward.

The risk for things to go wrong will always be present, and I know I won’t always be strong enough to push past that fear. Still, I know damn well that I need to try risk-free or otherwise because nothing will be won from standing still.

No pain, no gain.

More Inviting


How do you get out of bed when you would rather so much to stay in it?

Your morning alarm rings loudly from your iPhone or alarm clock, if you actually still own a traditional alarm clock. For what seems like a few moments, your tired eyes stay firmly shut as it sounds five minutes later to remind you that you really need to get up and out of bed. You settle into your blankets until that third alarm starts to ring loudly in your ears. At this point, if you are like me and set five or six alarms to ensure you will eventually arise from your cosy cocoon of blankets and perform your daily tasks, you pull back the covers of your bedding and blankets reluctantly to exit the comfort of your own bed to prepare yourself to go to work. You pause as your toes wiggle in the carpet as you start to sit up in bed.

Do you really need that job?

That’s the phrase you mutter as the rest of your stands up sleepily, putting on one of outfits you picked out the night before. Once you settle on the more comfortable outfit for the day, you sit in front of your mirror and open up your make-up case. Part of you wants to take your sweet time in putting on your make-up mask to waste your time, while the other half of you rushes to look presentable for your daily obligations.  It’s a hard balance to strike.

Somehow, you find yourself in your car to go to work.

Driving to work, you sleepily decide whether it would be better if you went to your normal work obligation or to just keep driving. You know you need the money, and it would be rude to neglect your obligations, but work is not always something you look forward to sometimes. If you are having a good week, you do not question heading to work and following the same path you always take. A bad week may have you questioning going back to the daily grind. You go back and forth on the highway as you drive.

Then, you arrive at your destination.

Sitting in your car in the office parking lot. , you debate your options. Do you get up out of the driver’s seat and go into your office? Do you turn the key in the ignition and drive off to do something more exciting or back to home to crawl back into your bed and fall straight to sleep? Hell, there are some days where it seems like it would be so much easier to just sit in your car instead of exiting it. A normal person would just park their car, pull the key from the ignition, and get out. Sometimes, especially if you are not having the best week, you question if going through the day to day is worth it.

Let’s say for argument’s sake you get out and enter your office. Now what?


Fear the Fearless


I am not afraid of clowns at all.

A weird statement to make, but with shows like American Horror Story: Cult and books/movies like It, I feel like it needs to be said. For some reason, clowns went from the lovable, cheesy performers at circuses to being the central villainous characters in all of our favorite horror movies, books, and television. There are so many people in the world that seem to be filled with absolute terror over the sight of clowns for some reason. I don’t get it, and I never will. Clowns are naturally just cheery and cheesy. There is nothing about them that even remotely gives me a slight chill. To me, they are not scary.

While weird individuals with red noses and white face makeup may not fill me with anything even remotely like fear or dread, there is so much else in this world that bring shivers down my spine in so many ways.

Sure, I experience some of the more rational fears of life. I have a healthy fear of drowning, but it does not stop me from going to water parks or to the ocean and enjoy myself. I have a perfectly normal fear of walking down a city street in the night or evening alone for fear of being attacked, but I love to go to places like New York City to see Broadway shows in both the evening and daytime. Normal things that scare normal people also give me cause to fear, but I am able to overcome these fears to get through the days. However, there are things that cause me to be afraid that are not your average and everyday fears.

It’s the things that I cannot ever fully have control over or understand that make me nervous.

I’m a nervous person if you have not yet come to this conclusion. Normal life causes me a lot of fear and grief. You never know how the day will go. Life could go well that day. Life could turn out horrible that day.  You just don’t know, and sometimes I get so socially anxious about that uncertainty that I begin to panic about not knowing how to act. I fear the unknown about what will happen next. I can’t prove or guarantee life’s events, so I am afraid of what I cannot see, hear, touch, taste, or even smell.

Then, there is my most overwhelming fear in this world.

Since I was a little kid, I have possessed one major fear that I have never been able to overcome. It ties in to my great fear of the unknown. I have a horrible fear of disappointing people. As strong as my socially anxiety may seem or as much as an introvert as I may be, I like people and want people to like me. The problem is, not every one is going to like me. Then again, some people will like me. I want so badly for everyone to like me that I’m constantly worried that I will let those who do like me down.

But, I’m still not afraid of clowns.

Better to Have Loved

red roses and narcissus

I’ve never been in love.

Hell, I’ve never been in a relationship or kissed another person on the lips. I am the latest of late bloomers. The only way I’ve ever seen what most other normal people would call love is what I read in books, watch on television, or see from other friends and family members with significant others of their own. Personally, it’s an experience I’ve never personally lived through.  It’s such a foreign concept that I cannot truly trust in its existence.

Is love even real?

Ok so I know love or the idea of love is real, and I am just being overdramatic. Surely love must exist in some form out there. There are way too many books, movies, and television shows that have been composed over the years to make me believe love is some sort of illusion. Love exists in some form somewhere in the world. Still, I then have to ask this question given love’s existence.

Is love worth it?

Break-ups and divorce, they seem to be ever more present in our day to day lives. Just recently, a relative began a divorce process. Stranger still, this person’s sibling also went through a divorce a few years prior. I’ve had other family members end their marriages over the years. I’ve held the hands of friends who’ve cried on the phone after breakups and misfires in love. If love can end, is it even worth pursuing in the first place? You know what? I don’t even need to question this because I know the answer. Of course, love is worth it.

Love can last, even if the risk of loss seems so high.

Tomorrow, my parents will be celebrating their thirty-sixth wedding anniversary.  Being married for that long must be a sign that love is present and exists somehow. Those family members who went through divorces and friends who went through destroying heartbreaks? They’ve all found love the second time around. Love can occur even when love is lost.

Having not been in love and been present to love ending, I still somehow believe in love.

If you read any of my other posts, you know that I’m not exactly what you call a positive person. I’m an introvert, social anxious pessimist with depression. Hope is not always something I find easily. Still, despite all of this negativity I experience and feel in my own life, love is something I never seem to stop believing in or searching for no matter what.

Why do I believe in something that I’ve never personally experienced?

The answer….well, I’m not too sure myself.

It’s a lot like my own strength. Life gets so heavy sometimes that it can sometimes feel like I will never make it through my day, but I always do. There are a lot of days I do not think I will make it through, but I always make it from midnight to midnight. Despite the idea I may never see love, I still seek and search for it.

I believe in a thing called love.



It’s 11:11, so make a wish.

Ok, so maybe it’s not exactly 11:11, probably won’t be by the time this gets posted, but I started it at 11:11.

What do you wish for when it’s time to wish?

Here’s a good question; what does it mean to wish for something? It is surely more than a dream. Dreams are merely fantasies of a desired or imagined reality. When we put intent or a desire to see the idea behind the fantasy through, it becomes a wish. A wish, at least in my own personal and humble opinion, is the dream that we truly want and hope will come true. We see the possible outcomes of an imagined reality, and we want them so much to see these dreams become reality.

Goals and intents all start with a simple wish.

Well, technically speaking, it starts with a dream. Like I said before, our dreams are what we imagine could possibly happen. These dreams are all of the possibilities that are before us. When we see these possibilities as something we would like to become a reality, they start to morph into what we would know as a wish. Wishes vary from person to person, and they can change over time depending on the person. For me, the same desire always stays consistent no matter what may happen in my own personal life.

My wish is always the same.

This particular wish may seem weird and selfish, especially since there is so much more that needs my hope and attention in this world. I hope that life will get better. I pray that the world will find peace and kindest before it completely collapses on itself.

Love is my wish.

Around me, love is a weird idea. I have family facing divorce. I have loved ones who are reluctant to get married. My parents have been married for nearly forty years. Thanks to my parents, I have a reason to dream of love that will last a life time. Thanks to everyone else, I have reason to mistrust anyone who tries to get even remotely close to me, romantically or otherwise. I want somebody to love, and I want somebody to love in return. Unfortunately, love is an uncertainty in this world. We cannot guarantee that the love we find in this world will last a lifetime or if it will end in disaster. Love is uncertain.

Still, I hope.

I know if love came my way, if I was lucky enough to find someone I loved, I’d fight for it.  I’ve read countless novels of love ending in disaster or love with a happy ending. I see celebrities with love affairs that will inspire me to fight for love in my own life or strike fear that they will end in disaster. Hell,  my own family offers their own examples of love that will last a life time and love that will end in horrible disaster.

When I wish upon a star, I wish for love.

What is Happy?


Am I happy?

It should be a fairly simple question to answer. Am I experiencing joy, or am I feeling sad? How is this hard to determine? Well, for me, it is. Right now, as I round out the second week of being twenty-seven, I’m reflecting on how much better life appears to be at the moment. It still is nowhere near as perfect as I would want it to be. Bad and unfortunate things still happen, but I seem to be coping with any of the little road bumps a lot better than I used to be. This shift in mood and ability to handle any sort of negativity that comes my way has caused me to again ask this strange question.

Am I happy, or am I just trying to be more positive in my twenty-seventh year of life?

I have to ask because happy is not normally an emotion or state of being that takes a place on my emotional roster. Those little bursts of sunshine in my life rarely seem to make an appearance. Normally, from an emotional standpoint, the skies in my day to day life are either grey and cloudy or downright rainy. My emotional normal is normally sad. Happiness is a strange emotion since I seem to feel it rarely. When I experience moments of joy, I’m not sure how to process them. Sadness is my normal, my familiar.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

It’s not like I don’t try to be happy in my day to day life; I do. However, it never seems to come my way. I will fully admit that part of this is my fault. I rarely put myself out there to experience happiness. I know who I am and how to operate life when I am down; I know who I am in the darkness of life. I should say that I don’t have a bad life, but I don’t see too much good. I just don’t know happy like I do sad.

Though I have to ask, am I not happy or am just perceiving things in a negative way?

Life has strangely been quite good to me of late. I feel more happiness than I feel sadness. I’m less anxious, especially from a social stand point. I try to socialize and overcome anything that scares me regarding interacting with others.  Stress doesn’t seem to hit me as hard as it used to, and I am more willing to let go of any negative emotion experienced from something going wrong.

It’s really hard to tell whether life is getting better or if I am wishing harder that it was.

Whatever the case may be, I’m going to keep on trying to seek out the good. I still don’t know or can tell if life is getting better for real, but maybe that isn’t the point. Yeah, I’m sad more often than I am happy, but I’m going to try and change all that whether I have power to or not.

Be good.