Today I took a short hike up the modest hill that contains Ensign Peak.  Lately I’ve been getting more and more serious about Photography, and as such, I tend to drag my new expensive camera around everywhere.  I’ve taken a liking to panoramic shots, as evidenced by the botched picture above, which was completely out-of-focus in every aspect.  I like taking pictures, and I think I could be pretty good at it once my skills and my imagination actually meet up somewhere.  The focus thing was my bad, and the result of not setting myself properly before I pressed the shutter.  Not a mistake I usually make.

The thing about Ensign Peak is that it’s a super easy hike, yet my flabby, aged ass still has to stop every twenty yards to heave and gasp for air like a pack-a-day smoker after a flight of stairs.  Someone should have told me that all of Utah was uphill before I moved here.  I’m from Ohio, where things are moderately boring and flat,  like Keira Knightly.  Hills and mountains are pretty, and they look great from a distance, but walking on them is another thing all together.  I need to get into better shape.

I’m also still looking for a job.  If anyone knows of anything, let me in on it, ok?  I’m looking for something in an artistic sense, like Graphic Arts or writing.  I did long, long years in retail and I think I’ve paid my dues in jobs that I don’t like.  I’m ready for something else.  Something where I can actually justify getting out of bed in the morning.  It would be great to actually use my talents for something other than pandering to the unwashed masses looking for a “deal” on some gadget they don’t need.  Alas, this job has thus far eluded me.

What else.  I have an entire web site to build.  I volunteered my skills to the Mountain-Con organization this year as a webmaster.  Looking back, that may have not been the best decision.  Building a web site isn’t the problem so much, it’s finding the motivation to work on it.  I find myself goofing off, doing things like surfing around on the web or writing boring blogs instead of actually working.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m really cut out to be creative.  Seems like my head is full of so many ideas and inspirations that my energy and willpower can’t keep up with them.  Oh, for the simpler days of being a kid when there were no obligations and one had plenty of time and energy and enthusiasm.

So yeah.  That’s what’s going on with me, and why I don’t write as much as I should.  Laziness and apathy, my new best friends.

You know how you get up and go to work every day, thinking “if I just had some time to myself, time I could spend doing the things I want to do, instead of slaving away at this job, working for meager wages and bowing to the Man… if I could just have some free time, think of the things I could accomplish!” Yeah, I used to think that too. The problem lies with willpower and drive. In my case, I had all these grand schemes and desires and things I wished to do, if “I only had the time”. Well, I have lots of time now. How many of those things have I done?

I’ve pissed away roughly two months (as of tomorrow, actually) now and have nothing to show for it. All of those cool ideas and things I wanted to work on in my previously non-existent free time have been shuffled to the back to make room for my ever depressing boredom. Why is it that I can’t seem to get the ambition to start these projects? Am I really that lazy?

So, it’s been two months. Now I need to get a job. What to do? Trouble is, I don’t want to get a job. As bored as I am on a daily basis, the prospect of going back to a place where I have no control over my life and personal time is abhorrent. I like sleeping in late. I like not having a defined schedule, even though it’s difficult to fill my day. I like not answering to anyone but myself and the ever-increasing need to eat. True, it’s not very lucrative to sit around all day, getting fatter and lazier, but it beats the 9 to 5 job grind.

There is a can of Pringles to my left. It’s slightly more than half full at the moment, a sign that I’ve been partaking in the Pringlly-goodness at times. The can sits there, mocking me with it’s bright red exterior and little smiley cartoon-character logo. The logo doesn’t have a mouth, but the set of his eyebrows and the shape of his moustache indicate a smile to me. It whispers, “you know you want a Pringle. You know you want one. Go ahead, have a Pringle. They are salty and delicious, and you know you want one.” Therein lies the problem: One Pringle is indeed salty and delicious, but ten Pringles are exquisite. Fifteen Pringles would just about do, and twenty Pringles would constitute a blissful snack.

So why is it there? I could simply take the delicious Pringles into the kitchen and put them in a cupboard. Then I wouldn’t be tempted to eat some. But, I keep them there for a reason. They are a constant reminder that I’m lazy and I’m fat. They are a constant reminder that the longer I sit here surfing the Internet and playing with Photoshop, the lazier and fatter I’m going to get. They are a constant reminder that I am unemployed, and that the money I do have saved is flowing away like a river of currency, not being replaced. Outgoing, not incoming. It is a constant reminder that I’ve somehow lost the willpower and the drive to control my own destiny. Reminds me of being at work, only without the making money part.

Plus, sometimes it reminds me that I just want a Pringle.

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