For some people, motivation is automatic. I’m sure there are people out there in the world who never hit snooze, never skip a workout, never let the house get messy, never let the dishes pile up before putting them in the dishwasher, and never skip classes.
I am not one of these people.
I do not possess the self-motivation for any of that. This piece from the Thought Catalog most accurately describes my daily inner dialogue regarding self-motivation. And just look at the title: “Self-Motivation for Losers.” So, yup, that essentially summarizes it.
At this stage in my life, I am primarily motivated by money and not getting yelled at. I do my homework because if I fail, that’s such a waste of money on my education. I go to work because if I don’t, not only will my bosses yell at me but also my parents and boyfriend and anyone who doesn’t yell at me for getting fired for just not showing up to work would be silently judging me for being that person. Also, I go to work because there are people there who are going to give me their money. Work’s a double-whammy.
When it comes to finding motivation, I tend to seek help from others. Namely, I tell people to tell me to do stuff. My boyfriend, Luke, can attest to this. “Luke, tell me to go to class tonight” and “Luke, tell me to clean my room” are common inclusions in our conversations. One time I even posted a picture of my messy room on the Facebook of my best friend and told her to yell at me about letting it get that way.
Ultimately, the best (and worst) person for me to go to for motivation is my mother. Mothers have the ultimate yelling ability. Mothers raised us. Mothers yelled at us when we did something stupid or were about to do something stupid or were about to ground us for three weeks for being stupid. All of this conditioning has lead to my mother possessing the most powerful ability to motivate me.
A hall monitor told me my shorts were too short to wear at school. I replied, “Alright, I’ll just go wear them elsewhere, then.” And I left school. Haha, I win.
So, I know I haven’t blogged in a while. And I know how much of cliche it is to say that. But it must be said.
To catch you up, I’ll give you a brief overview of the end of my summer and the beginning of my senior year. You’re welcome.
- School is school. After going to the Vocal Arts Institute at Mpulse at U of M this summer, being in my high school choir again is hard to adjust to.
- I’m going to my last high school Homecoming dance this Saturday.
- I’ve decided that I do love my hair short and so it will get cut and remain that way. =]
- Today, Twitter had a topic trend called #Iamsinglebecause. I searched it and all of them were all, “#iamsinglebecause I am fat” or “because boys are idiots” or “because I’m f*@&ed up.” I posted one. “#Iamsinglebecause I choose to be.“
- The Detroit Lions beat the Washington Redskins. (!)
- Laser tag is all I will be doing in Heaven.
- I got my homecoming dress for $8.
- I got my license!
- And a car.
- It’s name is Marty. Marty McFly.
- He’s a Transformer.
And now, for some of my absolute favorite internetz finds! =]
Ben: Hey, there.
Ben: What’s goin on?
Me: Not too much. I have the house to myself until Sunday.
Me: Let the wild parties commence.
Ben: Oh yes cause that is so you.
Me: I know, right?
Ben: hhaha, exactly
Me: I am the god of throwing wild parties that you’ll regret attending tomorrow.
Ben: *rolls eyes* what ever you say hahaa
Me: No really, Megan still remembers my going away party from when I moved from here to NC in the first grade.
Me: THAT’S ELEVEN YEARS LATER.
Me: How many parties that don’t result in teenage pregnancies or STD’s are remembered eleven years later?
Ben: hahahaha uhh idk? i don’t know that statistic but im sure there is one out there haha
Me: That’s how cool I am.
Me: You just don’t understand.
Ben: hahaha i really don’t.
My only suggestion, though, would be to have it cycle through varying maniacal laughs.
Just for all y’all’s future education, the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day is that on the former, we honor those who have died while serving their country, the latter is for those who have served their country and are still alive.
Does the president know that?
(you probably don’t want to watch the whole thing. It’s right at the beginning)
But seriously, Happy Memorial Day… Or something. It’s probably not a generally happy holiday, but I don’t know how else to say it. =]
(And I threw this one in for fun.)
I’m totally in one of those moods where I can ramble really effectively and just from one topic to another topic to another. And what the fudge, exactly, does “ranmble effectively” even mean? What’s the goal of rambling? Is there a point? Some one should run for senator and campeign all about how they should be elected because they can ramble really well and would rock the house down during filibusters (because this is the only scenario I can think of where rambling has a purpose). And a senator who can rock the House down while rambling is even more impressive because the House is a whole other part of Congress!
Anyway, what I meant is that I’m in this mood and I kind of like it because it’s like I get to explore my brain and just see where it goes (which can be very dangerous rewarding, I assure you.)
And my friend, Danike, wrote this post and in it, she mentioned about how she didn’t have any peanut butter to go with her jellyed bread and I responded and it makes me kind of worried proud that I was able to ramble this long about possibly the most unimportant point in her post.
I’ll be your peanut butter! ….Metaphorically, of course. I don’t know how I feel about being covered in bread covered in jelly. I don’t think I like that very much. And I can’t imagine it’d taste all that great. And I’m getting a little weirded out imagining what I’d look (or taste) like with jelly and bread. I do know that I wouldn’t taste as good with it as peanut butter. I wasn’t made from peanuts. I was made from human. And God. He was a part of it, too. But I guess if you’re into the whole human-jelly thing, then hit me up. We might (totally NEVER) work something out. But if you are one of those people who are into human jelly, what part of the human is the jelly from? Not like I really want to know, but my curiosity always killed all my cats. If it’s made out of organs or goo or something that can be removed from a person and they can still live, is it still canibalism? But I imagine if you make human-jelly out of the parts of humans that are extraneous, it wouldn’t be as good. But if you made it out of hearts, then wouldn’t that just be poetic? And because of how poetic it is, people would be all, “dude, if I eat this heart jelly, will I fall in love?” and they’ll think they’re kidding but they’ll all secretly hope that they will and then they will because of the Placebo Effect. But the problem will be that they’ll fall in love without the guaruntee that they’ll have some one to fall in love with. I mean, in love with them back. That would suck if you ate the jelly hoping for a lover and you fell in love with your pet donkey or something like that guy in a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Only he was made INTO a donkey and then had a fairy queen fall in love with him. And she got toally rejected! Poor thing. Apparently, that wasn’t flower juice Puck used, it was heart jelly. Maybe the donkey man just needed some heart jelly, too. Maybe every one needs heart jelly! Everyone would “fall in love” with everyone!
I just found out the key to world peace.