I can hear laughter, chatting. I still need to shower, wash my hair, and change my clothes. My bottle of champagne is not yet in the refrigerator. I haven’t even grabbed dinner yet.
I literally walked into the house about five minutes ago after working ten hours today.
I’m sitting on my bed, work clothes off, feverishly typing on my netbook trying to not disappointment myself.
I set a few goals this year, but none has been so difficult as writing for this blog.
Everyday. Well, an average of everyday, I strove to write one entry. Whether my aim was erotica, a rant, some random story about my life, or, more often than not, a retelling of a kinky adventure, I set out a year ago to push myself to produce more content than I ever had before.
One lesson I learned about my motivational style was rather simple yet had eluded me til now: Set a deadline.
A year already has a put in place schedule for me to follow, and the end of each month made for a natural constant goal for me to keep up with. A few times I fell short and needed to write one or two extra blogs for the next month. However, with that steady reminder of my constant aim, I slogged threw this year.
And now, with just under four hours til my ultimate deadline (when I initially wrote the rough draft of this entry), I am trying to meet my very last goal for this year. I’m not sure if I will, but dammit I’m going to try.
I’ve worked hard and I want to do this. I want to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can push myself to finish. Writing isn’t hard, despite what people may say. But finishing? Finishing is a bitch ass motherfucker.
And with this lesson conveyed, and hopefully learned, seconds dripping away quickly, I’m one of six blogs complete.
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