No one ever told me point blank the being happy takes work. Or shall I rephrase, being joyful takes work, at least for me. To be joyful one cannot lurk on Facebook all day and wait for that millisecond where motivation sparks, hoping that when it occurs I'll actually muster up the will power to do something about it. No, truly joyful people have perpetually moving feet that keep growing more energetic, more vivacious the more hurdles they cross. I am a boulder at a stand-still. Though I might be resting on a cliff's edge, potentially capable of rolling along effortlessly at amazing rates, I have no eyes to see which side is cliff and which is an uphill strain. Joyful people have clear sight, they can see where more road unravels. Joyful people don't get stuck. I feel I am this boulder in a valley or a crevice, walls on all sides. But again I am blind so who knows. (Figuratively speaking duh.)
Can someone come kick my static rock hard ass and get me rolling? I'm getting bored and miserable here. And to top it off, I think I am getting adult-onset asthma, so I'm scared to work out and go in the wilderness where my allergies might flare up. Since when did I become Mort Goldman from Family Guy? Not sure. At least Mort is a Pharmacist and has ready access to inhalers. I have to, say it with me now, MOVE, and get my wanker HMO Primary Care Provider to prescribe me something. He isn't a wanker really, he is just quick to determine which makes me feel like he is overlooking something potentially fatal.
I'm gonna nap.
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