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The Fear

Where has the motivation buried itself?

I’ve got to say, laziness is mighty deadly; but more so, as is written in Frank Herbert’s super classic Dune:

‘Fear is the mind killer…’

It was an odd place to find relatable notions of ethics, morals and personal philosophies.
But upon finishing it a week or so ago I’ve had opportunity to think over this gargantuan space opera of sci-fi delights wrapped within mythology, theology and prophecy; and I must say, it casts a flirts in a romance of oh so very deep philosophical and existential pursuits, cause and effect.

Fear is crazy. It’s a senseless rebellion against you.

It’s natural, but that doesn’t stop it from being rather crazy, frantic like a cat trapped in a room with a hundred Henry hoover’s switched on high. (The Henry hoover is an English domestic staple).

It’s one of our prominent survival instincts, fear, not Henry...It keeps us alive. Or perhaps,  (I use this word ‘perhaps’ far too much)…or at least that what it was previously for, you know In times of matters of daily life and death. (I use brackets and italics too much too)

Those times of constant violent fight or flight situations have been on the steady decrease for a while, with the occasional hiccup or nuclear hiccup; contrary to popular belief or perception, we are moving toward more peaceful times, it will be a while before we are ‘truly’ there though.  What we face now is fear or shattering the ‘self’ the ego, which is a perilous

Now it prevents us from such basic things as approaching that desired man or woman or both or a combination of the genders, it prevents us from applying for that job or taking that chance. Whatever the fuck it is!

It sounds cheesy and corny but it does, we all fear doing something. THAT very something, most of the time.

You know, THAT PLAN…

Fear declares our dreams dead on arrival often at the first consideration of failure; so we convince ourselves in our infinite pride and fragile ego, don’t change. Don’t even attempt it.

Don’t you dare motherfucker!

True motivation is sapped efficiently by fear; I for one am terrified of not only trying but to really put 100% of me in to something and put up for everyone to see, especially something as intimate as writing. Fuck me.

What will people think of me? There are twisted things that make the page but only that far.
And that’s a big one for me – massive pussy, yes.
It’s definitely a cliché, everything is, even saying that. And that probably etc. etc.
How do you put yourself out there?

(Start a semi-anonymous blog for a start)

Walk in to the hellfire rain of bullets that is the 21st century system, the information age, the weirdest fucking time of all time ever. 2016 is testimony to how strange things really are getting. Almost contradicting previous point.

But walk on, and be liquified and born again, and again, and again, and again.
People are mean, everyone is mean, you’re a fucking mean cunt. We all are! Let’s be mean and not be sensitive just fucking take the shit you get thrown at you, bag it up for later. Then get your own shit and throw it back if it makes you happy.
Shit slinging IS the internet so you’ll have all sparring partners you could possibly want 24/7. Or you could just think about it, in this context. It is a person, behind a keyboard. That’s it.

Fuck the crowd right?

So to all the twenty-something year olds stepping out into the world, maybe fresh graduates: There is no shame in not knowing what to do in life.
Who is to blame you?
Holy fuck, you know are there too many choices, industries, companies – and maybe not quite enough stock of those dream opportunities; for every day we sit back not shooting for our stars, someone else somewhere has their sites trained on your dream. It’s theirs too.

What do you want?

What do you need?

Health? Wealth? Youtube fame? Insta-model? Nice cup of coffee and oral sex? Fat bags of green and a Playstation 4?

Have you got a start up that is ready to take on the modern market?
You know what I’m talking about.
THAT PLAN.

Yes, let us talk about it.
No, no. I insist, its better this way.

We need to talk about that plan honey. Let us place hands on each others’ knees and share adoring glances for security comfort. Kiss me.
For me, writing is heavily tied to THAT PLAN. But does this effort right here right now contribute to that? Probably not. Most likely not at all. It’s not enough to me; I should be recording daily, scripting daily, reading and writing thousands of words every week.

Produce copy, send everywhere. Produce copy, send everywhere.

I often have a hard time keeping the attention span or keeping the faith in the ‘PLAN’ to want to write or keep up with these long ones. Especially on a given topic; the ones that don’t get finished are the ones I consider real work, and typically have evaded for a while. Sometimes, occasionally paying them attention and cowering upon realising there is much ticker-tackering to be doing on the old QWERTY keyboard there; thus convincing myself there was no point in the first place.

I should be spending every other hour I have spare away from the day job chasing
THAT PLAN. Giving it the attention it needs, dive the fuck in headfirst.
That’s what needs to happen. But by Christ I don’t have the power! Excuses, not true, sometimes true.

THAT PLAN.

What a tough cookie.
An ever changing double-what-the-fuck chip cookie. Cluster crumble fuck of a cookie.
Or a cluster fuck crumble. Either.

THAT PLAN is so hard to execute, the discipline and patience are the only real key and well, if you have it, i.e  you can make it, and if you don’t you keep doing what you’re doing, but never lose faith and never stop doing it just because it didn’t make you rich and famous. Not being bitchy, but this is just how we are becoming in this day and age. We are so used to overnight successes, even the losers of big game shows eventually win. We are a society obsessed with personality, the west especially.

We ‘see’ or perceive the rapid rise and fall of so many celebrities that it almost feels like a lottery, some may think that is just how it is. That is how it goes. You either get to be in the club or you don’t.

I’m not quite sure that is the case – there are more lanes opening up all over the place in this information age. Sometimes it feels like there is no point to even trying, the world is saturated with dreamers, but fuck it! You just have to go and do it. It’s never easy its fucking shit and it hurts but it needs to be done. You can tell I’ve hit a positive frequency today, it’s almost disgusting.

Even those fifteen-minutes-of-fame fuckers took a chance, did it and got ALL the hate available. So why don’t you go get yours and go beyond that ceiling of imagination, take it up a notch.

Everyone is trying to get THERE and you and I are stuck HERE.

Where we can get the ticket to catch that ride is anyone’s guess; so start walking and hopefully, make it there regardless of how we do it.

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