Motivation

I’ve been thinking a lot about motivation recently. Motivation to do something other than nothing. I know it has a lot to do with bravery…an acceptance that sometimes you have to be vulnerable. Sometimes, you have to surrender to win the fight…if there even is a fight. It has come to my attention that the only time anything has ever happened is if I have actually gone out of my comfort zone and done something…seems obvious, no?

I am baffled when people seem so content doing nothing. Watching telly day in, day out, just because it’s easy. We are odd in that sense, that we have been soothed into such a lull in this country, that we have that seemingly eternal and ruining luxury to just do nothing. I say this…but I am just the same.

I wonder sometimes why I feel dissatisfied with nearly everything around me. It’s because we do not go through the effort of fulfilling ourselves. It’s not even a matter of potential, more just trying not to waste this preciousness that is life. We CAN’T know what comes after, or before, so I figure make the most of what we do know. And what is it that we know. It is theatre, places, books, countries, numbers, feelings, weather, nature, cities, substances, wanting, hoping, striving, people and everything in between.

Yet…and yet.

I sit here in a messy university room, in my dressing gown, not doing an essay…not doing anything.

I do theatre, I play a bit of broken music, I write. I laugh with my friends and have fun. Great but…what is this? It is what, as a member of a middle class society, I am supposed to be doing. And it makes sense in that sense. I need a degree to get a good job, to get money, to survive, to afford to die. What a shameful thing it will be to make so small an impact on the human race. I can deal with the fact that we as a species are a mere blip on Earth’s existence, but within the realms of ignorance of anything outside of what we know, I’d like to be known. To be remembered as someone who did SOMETHING beneficial. Someone who had motivation.

I don’t want children because they will tie me down, tie me to the trodden track of adult life. It’s muddy, messy. I’m itching to clamber down the track that doesn’t even exist yet…but then again, why haven’t I started? From Surrey to Kent is hardly an adventure…I have friends all over the world, from all over the world, doing what they want to do.

Yes, this piece is very I, me, I. But it applies to everyone, I think. Then again, if everyone strove to do the extraordinary, who would be the ordinary? Hmmm.

There is no conclusion to this. Only that I need to escape the lull, to decide what I want to do, where I want to go, and what I need to do to get there.