Where has the motivation gone?

Sometimes after I write my hands hurt from the ubiquity of repetitive taps of the keyboard. I love that pain because the pain usually signifies the end of an accomplishment. Yes, an accomplishment, no matter how good or how bad what was written, it’s an accomplishment when thoughts meet words and words meet the computer screen. At least that’s how I’ve grown to look at it these days. In a quest to become the best writer I can possibly be, I’ve had to take the bad with the good, however there has been more bad than good lately. To prevent unnecessary frustration or unnecessary stress or unnecessary anger I’ve had to train myself to become more optimistic. This optimism has turned everything I’ve written into an accomplishment, the thing is, I haven’t accomplished nearly as much as I’ve wanted to this summer – and it hasn’t even been close.

Now my hands hurt for an entirely different reason. They’re longing to transfer the energy expensed pushing down on various keys into more accomplishments, but the mind hasn’t been functioning the way the hands want it to. I’ve been lost mentally for about the last month and a half. My ideas have been as scrambled as the two eggs I ate before hitting the gym this morning and live has eaten and digested them just the same. It’s been getting harder and harder to get thoughts down on paper, even about basketball. I’m slowly coming to the realization that I’ll never be great at anything because I tire of it too quickly. I’ve been going hard at this writing thing for only three years, and I’ve progressed a lot, but there have been so many other things that I’ve started, thought I’d love doing, then grew tired of them. I mean, I could have been a good graphic designer, a good history teacher, a good music engineer (not to be confused with an actual musician). I get so deep into things so fast that I get tired of it because the growth slows down. It never stops, but my writing isn’t nearly improving at the rate it was two years ago and I’m definitely not learning something new every day.

I knew this was coming, but I prayed that it didn’t. I don’t have the propensity to continue doing things for long periods of time. I’m a natural born quitter. I get bored to easily, I’m bored with life. The thing is, I don’t know what else to do. It’s all I’ve known for the last three years, it’s kept me sane, it’s kept me humble, it’s kept me in school. But now, I’ve lost all motivation to write for a month and all of a sudden I’m tired of it. Inspiration has been harder to find than Carmen San Diego (I know, I love sports, it’s the Olympics, inspiration should be every where, right?). Honestly, as of right now, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself. I have about a year and a half left before I graduate and get thrown out into the real world and all of a sudden, I might not even know what the fuck I want to do. I thought I loved writing about basketball, now, I’m not so sure.

I don’t know what I’ll do anymore. I love basketball, I love history, and right now, that’s about it. I’m hoping this is just some bum ass phase. I don’t know. I can’t stop writing because I have an obligation to run my school’s newspaper for at least another year, hopefully I’ll wake my ass up and realize that I’ve been doing what I need to be doing.

To be continued (maybe?)