Motivation on the Count of Three.

When dealing with life, love, and getting off the couch, motivation is key for survival. But in it's most simplistic form, this driving provocation in some instances, seems to impractically elude an austere acquiescent process.

As usual, I find myself looking around my studio apartment in a truculent nature, in awe at the sight of uncleanliness. A suitcase half unpacked lies at my right, with mountainous piles of clothing that has effortlessly overtaken what little floor space there was to begin with. Dishes have somehow collected into a large and forthcoming company, with tracks seemingly embedded into the floor. You know you've been left at a dejected stop on the stimulus train when you find an ant comfortably sitting at the edge of your tub. How does one get to this disgraceful reputability screaming of parasitical breeding grounds? This leads me to the edifying concept of motivation.

Growing up, certain generational customs and accepted rituals are consistently embedded into the young and frivolous-minded. Within the educational echelons of doom, we're taught the American way of developmental modality: "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." This phrase has overwhelmingly been satirized in various means, as to such I will not delve into. However, I personally feel as if there should be some sort of government subsidy, allotting billions and trillions of dollars in support of 'motivational-regeneration,' as I would like to call it. The red, white, and blue motto would then be altered to read, "life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and the absence of couches and the potato-like." This said regeneration would cause a perceived increase in all human affairs and production, propelling the states to the always desired high global eminence. Right? I think so.

Sometimes I find myself falling into the rut of average, going about each day just as the last, expecting no more, no less. This mediocrity has been noticed to greatly affect my mood, expectations, and importantly, my motivational crusade - not to mention the lack of guests willing to enter my apartment. Life seems to be traditionally accepted, with no great anticipations nor love-like aspirations. Like an unbeatable plague, it can easily be spread.

I feel that, in regards to the relational aspect of the emotional encumbrance, this is how the connection begins to dwindle, or even the ambition to have one at all. We're motivated each morning to get up, go to work, sit through class, wave a polite finger at a passing car, and feed the rat, yet sometimes it seems as if love is out of the question. Why is it so hard to love another individual? Why do we, as a society, find it hampering within the daily duties to become completely exposed and barren, for all that you're worth, to a significant other? Why, then, in turn, do we, once embraced with the sentiment, discover ourselves complacent?

The only answer I can come up with is the plateau of familiarity. Some of us will break through with the propelling force of motivation, and some of us will continue to live our lives in a cyclical pattern with the rise and fall of the sun. Being comfortable where you're at shouldn't be seen as having a negative connotation, yet riding along an asymptotic course of pedestrianism while possessing the cynicism towards life and love, is.

As if mere inferences are not enough (in it's own unadulterated nature), I can't help but try to unearth a better resolution, after all, these dishes aren't going to wash themselves.

CourtReplies' Three Steps to Motivation:
1. Get off the couch (or else gravity will start to take effect).
2. Grab _________ and realize how propitious you are to be exactly where you're at.
a. a Bible
b. an old photo album
c. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows
3. Go outside, it looks even better than being seen through a window.


Galatians 6:7,
CourtReplies

Introducing, The Prowl.

As I'm staring at my computer screen, disobediently ignoring the massive amount of reading that has piled up just from today alone, I can't help but to introduce myself into the profound world of blogging. Hi, I'm CourtReplies, and I'm a college sejunior (in between a junior and a senior), nice to meet you. Now, let's get to the point.

I understand like. I understand lust. There are a lot of emotions that I wholeheartedly appreciate, recognize, comprehend, and have come to know. However, the remorseful attribute I have somehow absentmindedly acquired through genetics limits my boundless-track mind down to a sole concept: the ideology of love.

Love is a powerful emotion, yes. Can it make people do some crazy things? That’s obvious. Have I ever truly grasped the notion of this all encompassing and frivolous sensation? No. The matter is, is that I am very immature when it comes to the fact that, life just isn't fair. Too many significant others have come and gone with sad sob stories and bountiful reasons for me to count love out of my life, and off my mind. Yet it seems as though I can't.

My life has never been perfect, nor would I ever claim such a thing. Moreover, my love life has never been anything short of ‘nail-on-chalkboard’ dreadful, leaving me at wits end scurrying to find the next replacement. The problem with women, is, and myself undoubtedly included, is the ongoing search for the perfect man - the prowl, as I would like to call it. I feel unwanted, undesired, unwholesome, and a plethora of additional un- words when unattached or deemed single-girl status. For example, it feels great when you have a seemingly successful man send you an email like,

“I do love you, [CourtReplies]. I love you just like I love my family in that, I would do anything and everything to make sure that they, and you, were safe, happy, taken care of, and loved. I do love you. So, so much. Just like I would for them, I would lay my life on the line for you. What would people do if you died? I can't speak for anyone else, but I would never be the same. And I've only known you for, what, 9 months? I know my heart, and I know the difference between a passing fancy and true, genuine love. I genuinely, wholeheartedly love you.”

As real as this tidbit can get (and mind you, it is a real message), I cringe at the mere thought that I just had to fix a horrid amount of simple spelling and grammatical errors within those 10 heartfelt sentences. My syntactic perfectionism lead this relationship into the ground, not even alluding to his age and superior status. But, for the sake of upholding my good-person reputation, I will allude no more.

Therefore, with that being said, I can't help but realize a simple factual notion: things change, people change. Events change; life in general changes. I then find myself asking the question that is in every way familiar to all: why? Why must we strive for that feeling of acceptance and deep compassion throughout life's ups and downs? Furthermore, once we have it, why are we so easily persuaded to give it away?

I suppose that's what love is - and that's when you know you've got it. The admiration and desire for inclusion amongst their lives, the fight to keep it, and the desire of never letting go - not to mention proper linguistic skills. Love is all encompassing, truly. I just have yet to find it.


Proverbs 16:9,
CourtReplies.