Right now, as I’m writing this, I have no fewer than five projects spinning on plates, all of them demanding attention, energy, and belief at the same time. This is normal for me, and people often comment that they wish they could stick to it like I do.

Here’s what they don't know: I want to give up every single day. Yes, I'm being dramatic, but, "I too somethimes struggle to find motivation when things get boring" doesn't have the same ring. 

I’m not powered by endless nuclear motivation. I’m powered by rhythm. Most days aren’t exciting; they’re repetitive. What looks like grit from the outside is mostly containment on the inside; fewer decisions, smaller lanes, steady hours, and the discipline to stop chasing novelty when nothing is broken.

The Ugly Middle

I’m rebuilding the LTASEX show and blog almost from scratch; crawling from nine views to two hundred over the last couple of months. That kind of growth looks good on paper, but living inside it is exhausting and quietly demoralizing.

I’m refreshing the website, stuck in a half-standstill because I want more advanced features than our current budget cleanly allows. That means spending brain power not just building, but creatively working around limitations.

I’m still rebuilding a team after moving last April, which means I’m running the entire company by myself. Every decision, every task, every loose end comes back to me.

I’m restoring my van, and every time I turn around there’s another thousand-dollar surprise waiting to be handled. Something else hacked, cracked, or worn thin.

I’m trying to build personal relationships, where progress often feels like one step forward and two steps back. I’m still trying to find a place where I actually feel like I belong; learning what that even feels like in my body. We’re not even going to get into dating.

So when you say, this shit sucks, or I’m tired of this, or the rent is too damn high, I feel it at a visceral level. So much effort. So much energy. So much money. And sometimes; in the dark, in the exhaustion of poor sleep, in the long shadow of disappointment; a thought creeps in:

Why don’t you just give up? What am I doing this for?

To be fair, for some things, that question is valid. Some paths are meant to be set down. Some pursuits end because they should.

But when you know you’re working toward something good, something that actually matters to you; giving up isn’t really an option.

So how do we do this?

The boring truth

The ugly middle isn’t dramatic; it’s boring.

This is the part no one really sells you on. The part where doing the right thing, having integrity, trying harder, and showing up again starts to feel dull. Not painful; repetitive. No fireworks. No applause. Just the same choices, over and over.

We talk a lot of shit about growth and discipline, but the truth is, most of it feels monotonous. It’s not a high-frequency drone of motivation; it’s a steady tick‑tock. Same hour. Same effort. Same restraint. Same follow‑through.

And that boredom can feel dangerous. It whispers that nothing is happening. That you should be further along by now. That if it doesn’t feel exciting, it must not be working.

This is usually when people go looking for stimulation instead of rhythm. Not because they’re weak, but because humans crave movement. But it’s the rhythm that carries you. The quiet repetition. The unglamorous consistency.

For some, that rhythm comes from prayer. For others, routine, ritual, journaling, walking, lifting, or simply showing up at the same time every day. These things don’t make the middle exciting; they make it survivable.

You don’t need certainty right now. You need a beat you can keep time with.

A Real-Time Example

So here’s something honest.

While writing this blog, I accidentally deleted probably five hundred words; the part where I explained how I handle problems in my daily life. Gone. No undo. I clicked away from my phone, and the history was wiped.

Oh no. Oh no. OH NO. NO. NO. NO. Fuuuu....

Ok I'm back.

The first question was obvious: Can I undo this?
No. Absolutely not. 

The next question was just as obvious: How do I feel about it?
Pissed. Absolutely. Cocksure, furious, wanna put my tender Pixel Fold in a blender watch it spin around to beautiful oblivion. 

But here’s the part that actually matters.

I want this blog out today. It’s not going to hit the neat little noon email slot I had in my head (it's 11:37 and I don't have a cover image); and honestly, who gives a fuck. It’s Saturday. You’ll read this when you wake up, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe never. Timing isn’t the point.

What you care about; and what I care about; is whether what I’m sending you is useful.

So instead of trying to recreate a flash-in-the-pan moment, I did what I actually do when things go sideways: I paused. I let myself be mad. Screamed. I accepted the loss. And then I kept moving.

In a strange way, losing those words was helpful. It gave me the chance to show you the thing instead of just telling you about it.

Every day is just a series of hurdles. Missed steps. Small losses. Minor fuckups. If you get stuck at any one of them, that’s where failure happens; not because the problem was too big, but because you stopped moving. Shit loves to go wrong I always say.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about continuity.

You don’t need a flawless run. You need the ability to stay upright when something drops out from under you.

That’s the rhythm.

Tick. Tock.

(Published at 1:12pm)