Today the goddess speaks about herself:
Total lack of motivation has led me to gain weight, stop doing the laundry, stop paying bills and let the house go to hell. Here I sit in an ancient house dress that used to be cute, and my husbands over-sized Icelandic sweater. My hair looks good though. Also, my nails aren't bad.
Let us now journey into the mystery of where my motivation has gone. Down the toilet. Short journey.
How to get it back: No F-ing idea. Shorter journey.
Why I care: because it's boring. Everyone is doing it; losing their motivation for no apparent reason. I'm beginning to give my husband's conspiracy theories credence.
I have been rendered useless by a series of subliminal messages transferred through the television. I certainly watch enough of it these days. I have become a salivating pile of goop from messages hidden in a Reba re-run marathon, hours upon hours of HGTV, and the E network. The government is sucking the life out of women to keep us down. It is probably to keep us from voting for Hillary. God, that woman is always
doing something. It's exhausting how she is making me look bad. The only thing that makes me feel like I can relate to her is her large, round behind, and the knowledge that she has a vagina somewhere under those tailored skirts. Work, work, work, work ,work. She has more accomplishments than the last six Nobel peace prize winners. But, does this impress me? Hell no! Because I have been systematically reprogrammed, and now suffer from Stepford Syndrome.
What gives me pleasure: coffee, alcohol, and my hair looks really good right now. I am an addict with a string of good hair days to my credit.
I tell myself the reason that I can not get started making lists is that I don't have a calendar. For the last 15 years I have received several complimentary calendars in the mail. You get those when you donate money to certain organizations. I have had my selection of calendars from NOW, to Habitat for Humanity, the zoo, Amnesty International, The Girls Next Door (I think someone else in my house must have supported that organization). This last year I did not open my mail or answer the phone. No one got any money out of me unless they hunted me down in person. Thus, no calendars. My husband offered one of his many welding supply calendars, but they don't give me any visual pleasure. And, since all I do these days is sit around and stare at stuff, that is a pretty important element.
Other reasons I may lack motivation:
1. The weather sucks.
2. One of the dogs keeps peeing on the carpet and I can't get her to stop so I've given up on everything.
3. My vision is going bad and I'm still mad that I shelled out 4,ooo bucks for the latest laser technology only three and a half years ago.
4. My bedroom is a mess so that I wake up and am instantly cranky with my spouse setting the tone for my entire day.
5. I am being suffocated by print (books, magazines, newspapers, web articles, piles upon piles of junk mail, etc. . .).
6. Perhaps I get some kind of perverted charge out of not getting anything accomplished (this is weird psychology bullshit, but thought I should throw it in the mix).
7. Aliens have taken over my mind and all of the time spent watching E is a sign that I should become a Scientologist.
8. The damned conservatives are trying to keep me from acting on my self-righteous anger over health care, education, and the environment by controlling my thoughts through narcotics released in airplane contrails.
9. Those fluorescent light bulbs, that are becoming so prevalent, are sucking the life force out of me one migraine at a time.
10. (I leave this for you, the reader, to contribute an opinion -- make it funny; I need the laugh).
My only hope seems to be to turn off the television, wear a gas mask, and buddy up to my favorite Scientologist, John Travolta.
May peace and a hunky childhood crush be yours from: The Goddess of Everything.
