It's hot in here.
Nothing is beginning, technically
and very little is finished.
These times are my very most unmotivated times
and just like the gym, the most important times to step into the studio.
I wanted to make sure that this part gets its own song, too: this unsexy time in the studio
where it's sweats and bad/good country music
bare feet and the stunningly strong desire to flee.
At the end of days like today
if I knuckle down and do what my task list said to do (because days like today totally require a task list - the muse is off banging someone else)
the satisfaction is incredible.
The reward is the work itself,
that those middle parts were done
and done well.
Because what happens after the grumbling stops is wonderful:
Totally not motivation,
Sometimes I give myself a carrot to get started,
maybe a piece of chocolate if I saw out 'x' or 'y'
or just the pleasure of singing along to the radio
keeping me present and accounted for
I fall in love with the unsexy
and we slow dance
and we laugh at our old jokes
because we've known each other for a really long time
and because the company is really fine
The night after I overcome
my love of shiny and finished things
and get to work
I always sleep really well.
I kept my head in my work,
in the most sacred and mundane parts of it.
I didn't look to be dazzled or inspired.
I put in work.
Good solid life-affirming work.