Tuesday, 18 January 2011


This is more about my lack of motivation than anything. Who knew a simple, natural feeling like this would be so hard to achieve? There are a lot of things that I want to do and some things I really need to do. The bane of existence for the average angsty teenage will be taking stage here. That’s right, you guessed it: revision! What’s the other idiosyncrasy of adolescence? A messy room. Firstly, I’ll tackle my lack of motivation for revision. I don’t quite understand why this happens to me but come exam time, I seem to lack a certain drive to do work. Getting motivation is nothing but an aggravation for myself. I try to wake up in the morning to do hours of revision to be sidetracked by food, TV, films and the internet. I don’t understand how I accomplish this but I somehow seem to move completely off my main goal and lose hours of my day doing nothing.

It’s probably “normal” and just “what teenagers are like” but I feel like there’s a bigger reason. I personally put it down to physical lethargy. I believe that my inertness is inherited from my lazy, nothing days. I feel like I should start some form of physical activity in an attempt to get me vivified and energetic so I actually get out of bed at a respectable time, and easily. Getting out of bed is the biggest chore and it’s - yet again - “normal for teenagers” but I’m not content with the normality of teenagers for the reason of my own lackadaisical ways. I should start somewhere and start by doing something but the last time I “did something”, I wasted £15 on a gym membership that I was too lazy to even collect from the reception of my school.

Now, hopefully, from being up and actually having energy to do other things - other than vegging out and mindlessly immersing myself into a fictional reality - I’ll be able to revise and pass my exams this time. Get into university. Complete my degree with a first. Have a well-paid job. Become successful. To reach the last goal, I must first pass my exams this time. For this, I need motivation and drive so I actually work hard. I’ll have to have energy and bargain with myself that if I do one more past paper, I reward myself with a cup of tea or something which isn’t pathetically British or that, quite simply, isn’t pathetic…

At least I’m planning and organising myself now. That’s something I’ve never done before, hopefully this will lead on from here. My first exam is Wednesday and then my last two exams are a week Wednesday so I’ll be done. After tackling and smashing my exams, I’ll be tackling a bigger challenge. A challenge that Martin Luther King, Ghandi and Nelson Mandela wouldn’t even attempt. My room. My room is a pit of nothing but somehow everything. It has all of my essentials, everywhere. Hanging from different ledges of my room. In fact, I have fifteen things hanging from different things in my room. My radiator is crammed. The top of my computer desk is filled with random things like CDs, my camera, my shaver, my house and car keys, my stereo face, my blank DVDs and about a million other things which are completely pointless and unnecessary. One of my flaws is that I’m a horder. I got that from her mother. That and her looks. Thanks…

I’d have to get rid of all this unnecessary crap and clean it and move it about and redecorate it so it doesn’t look like a homeless man used to live her and collect things and try to connect them so he could contact his real parents who are aliens. Too far on the description? Probably. All I’m saying is this place is a tip, a landfill of not only my crap but my entire family’s barrage of crap. I don’t even have curtains! My neighbour’s back garden is actual level with my window and they can not only see in a little bit but they can actually see the entirety of my room. In fact, I’ve had someone tell my mother that they can see my room at night when the light is on and they live on a different street. There’s plan number two of operation “get the fuck up you lazy twat”.

How should I start? I have a few issues of FHM which always contain an “Upgrade: Fitness” section on how to get fit and are financially viable for me because they’re just “eat right” and things you can do in your own home and even using things around the house. I suppose that would be the best way to start instead of wasting another £15 on a three-month gym membership which will remain in the office with staff laughing at the procrastination and laziness of me. Even if I did pick it up, I’d hear laughing from the card itself as it got lost in my wallet along with my library card and, currently, useless National Insurance card; I’m unemployed and no one has even offered me an interview. Woohoo.

I still hear the laughter. In fact, I pre-emptively and telepathically, can hear the three readers bursting out laughing at the very thought and idea of me exercising and not losing interest with my short attention span. They’re probably right. I’ve completely gone off topic though. My point is that the physical tiredness that I inexplicably feel, is from nothing. I don’t mean nothing at all. I mean from physically doing nothing, I’ve exhausted my body into a lazy shell. Laugh away, you gits. Who laughs last, laughs longest. Who dare mess with the man with the fitness plan which came with a magazine? You know not of my abilities. I will shine through and ride through as a gleaming Adonis that all men will want to be… Not even I believe that. It’s worth a shot though. It may help motivate me for more things.

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