Motivation and inspiration

Once upon a time, the pen was my albatross. Come hell or high water, I would don my writing cap to craft a day's worth of dispatch to a global readership interested in the mundane business of management studies. I had no time, I was far removed from anything related to the "real world" (although my studies were "real world, real learning"), and I was chronically fatigued. Still, that old foe time made room for my elusive friend inspiration and voila' - a daily diary entry was born. Just one year, and I can look back to see my work sitting idle on the back pages of a graduate school website as a reminder of what I used to do.

This evening, I sit in quietude, soaking in a new life and re-setting my habits and thought patterns for another life. I have crossed the chasm of my youth, headstrong into adulthood and carrying a whole new set of expectations for myself. I am refocusing, and (relatively) I have all the time in the world. However, I don't seem to find the time in writing my daily dispatches - and why is that?

Alas, I have seeped back into a good, old American lifestyle - one that permits busy-ness and comfort beyond the gritty joys of daily life. I write this perched luxuriously on a sofa that sucks me into its cushions, sitting listlessly between tasks on my to-do list. I have temptation to get up for a dollop of ice cream with all kinds of sinful additives. Reflecting on my life in these days, I stopped for this once to wake up to my reality - and I realize one simple thing. The real difference between last year and this year is little more than a difference in motivation and inspiration.

Comments

Anonymous said…

Hey, Todd, been following you from your IMD blog days, read every one of them. What are you doing nowadays? What kind of work do you do and where do you work?

Best,
Sai
peaceforall@gmail.com

18:30

Party Like It's 1999

A coworker sent me a meeting invitation to the end of the world. Fitting. I'm not sure if I should accept or not (suppose it depends on your views of the end of the Mayan calendar ), but somehow it reminded me of the Prince song on a related subject . Fitting as well that this coworker was not born when Prince extolled the virtues of partying like it's 1999 (side note: I did party like it's 1999 while studying abroad in Milan at that time, which was a heady experience with the coming of the Euro and all. How times have changed, how the mighty have fallen...). Time change, sometimes faster than we think, and our cultural references become dated. Perhaps just like the Mayan calendar falling out of fashion over the last few centuries, until its end becomes a modern cultural phenomenon - or not, depending on your view of things. In either case, it's worth partying like it's 1999 regardless because hey, it will be Friday when this all goes down, and Fridays

New York Pause

Heading to the Helmsley Sometimes I work in NYC, and this is my office. More precisely, there is a desk in the upper floors of this distinctive building that has a major thoroughfare running through it that I inhabit while typing up documents and conducting meetings in the city. It is nothing exceptional, usually the work and sometimes the desk at which I sit, but the surrounding city is commanding, ever-thriving, and never-still. If I pay close enough attention, I am reminded of the countless things that make this city unique among the many cities I have had the pleasure to live in and visit. But on this brisk morning, when winter gusts barrel down Park Avenue as I hustle the blocks from Lex to the building entrance security guards, I pause long enough to snap this picture. That pause is enough reminder that I am lucky to be here, and New York City is ready to give me its best shot (I'm still not sure if the city is better personified male or female). But that is all t

A Little Bit of Proust

Somehow I started to read Proust. The blame goes to Alain de Botton , a writer whose witticisms deconstruct modern thinking and make intellectualism seem but a trifle and a whim. He wrote a book in 1997 called "How Proust Can Change Your Life" which distills the enigmatic French novelist into a self-help dispenser of pithy ideas. How clever I found Mr. de Botton to be when I dipped my toe into the vagaries of Proust; I picked up volume one of "In Search of Lost Time" and instantly fell into the deep end. What author dares to run sentences onward into the stratosphere that sometimes seemingly mellows behind the stars of a bright night, but never so much as an introspective person that wretches for the meaning of a simple thought, sometimes stumbling, but always emerging strongly as that same night in starry sky, almost an homage back to Van Gogh, whose rich paintings greatly represented the mood of a generation - and generations often afford a few mis-steps in l

Journal : OpenRoadWorks

Search This Blog