Not Motivated To Work

I was supposed to have sent this like 7 hours ago. FUCK.

Sorry. My bad.

How nice would that have been, though?

I could be sitting on the sand right now, watching the sunset over the Santa Monica Pier. (I do get to see it through my window, but still…)

I could be reading my Kindle.

Or having a cocktail.

Or laying in bed, taking some corny ass yoga teachers to school on Instagram.



Damn, that sounds so fucking tasty.

And it was indeed my plan.

… to have sat down early this morning, when I was scheduled to write, and for genius and fire to flow from my fingertips and into your inbox.

It just didn’t happen.

I did sit down to write when I was scheduled to write… and I pumped out a bunch of stuff.

But I never found That Feeling.

That Feeling I chase when I write these emails.

This weird giddy, mischievous feeling.

That Feeling where i’m self-amused, and laughing, and excited, and my fingers barely can keep up with my mind because I just want to Send the damn thing NOW.

“wait ’til these motherfuckers get a load of this shit.” 😈

When I feel That Feeling, I know I got me a winner… I know that no matter what happens, I’m gonna have a chill night because I fucking poured it out and I hit all the right notes.


When I don’t feel That Feeling, I stress that it won’t “bite.”

That people will get bored.

That my mystique will wear off…

I go through this every fucking time.

I just try to remind myself that I can’t control what I’m thinking about –  or what kind of mood i’m in – or if I’m feeling “inspired.”

But there are two things that I CAN control…

Which just so happen to be the two things that make the biggest impact on whether or not my writing A.) gets done — and B.) with the least amount of self-hatred.

Those two things are:

1. JUST FUCKING STARTING. Even if I just start with a blank page and writing “holy fuck, I don’t want to do this right now. I’d rather do anything else. But I have to do this cuz I said I was gonna do this. My name is Ryan. I’m a god damn stud.” etc.


Like right now – I am ACTIVELY fighting my urge to pick up my phone and check my Purge video.

“ahhh fuck it, man, it’ll just take a second… you’re not exactly in Einstein mode right now anyway – what’s the worse that can happen?”

Holy fuck.


I cannot let that urge win.

I WILL NOT let that urge win.

It’s like I don’t want to confront the shitty feeling that comes with the words not coming and I use my phone for momentary relief.

But you know what will happen.

I’ll find some Instaprick and start getting mad at them for making it look easy.

Or I’ll get jealous that they appear more organized and on top of their shit.

But I know damn well that isn’t the case.

I’m sure there are folks out there that think the same thing about me.

“Oh, that Ryan,… with his great hair and his brilliant mind and his 12-inch python… it’s so easy for him. I could never do what he does.”

Well… you’re right about a lot of that shit.

But it isn’t easy.

And it isn’t 12 inches. 😔

But I Rygress.

Here’s the deal:

Once I actually sat down and started writing… and fuck, just as importantly: STOPPED LOOKING AT MY FUCKING PHONE.

It started to gel.

Is it a masterpiece?

Nnnn.. Yes.

Of course it is.

Do I know have more to give?

Of course I fuckin do. That’s what tomorrow is for. And the day after that.

But at least now, I have another winning reference experience.

Another time I can point to and be like

“yeah I wasn’t feeling my shit that day either, but I still sat down and got the motherfucker done.”

So that’s p sweet.


PS – The Purge is on Sunday. YOU MUST DO THIS.


PPS  – I’d love to get your thoughts on this.

View this post on Instagram

Not rhetorical. I’m curious. ⠀ If not, why not? ⠀ (answer this shit.

PPPS – And if you’ve ever wondered why I say “talking videos in your IG Stories are NOT the same as posting on your feed,” this video is for you.


PPP-motherfucking-PS – this is Day 21 of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. There are a bunch more at

It Might Get Strange

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