So, today I stumbled upon a blog via Facebook that is written by a former colleague of mine. It made me realize something which struck me as quite profound.

What I write doesn't mean anything... to anyone.

That statement is more factual than it is self-deprecating. When I started blogging in this space, I made a choice to make it a totally narcissisting venture into exploring myself. At the time it was what I needed to do. There were some areas of my life which needed to be handled.

Well, now they've been handled. Ok, maybe not all.

This blog exists because I had previously put so much of myself into a former relationship that I needed to make some changes. I journaled the changes to see where I've come from where I've been. My lack of willingness to update this space means that this blog is no longer necessary.

Reading this new blog from an old friend today, made me realize that somewhere in the last few years, I became comfortable and content. I stopped forward thinking and lost myself in nostalgia. Have I regressed? Not a chance, but I haven't progressed either. I'm no longer working to make myself better.

This needs to change.

I haven't read a book (fiction or otherwise) in over a year. I've stopped working out. I try to eat healthy, but have become a serious foodie... so my healthy diet frequently falls to the wayside.

I know it is possible to be healthy AND a foodie, because I have a co-worker who succeeds as being both. He explains it to me as thinking of meals as fuel, so he can truly enjoy the fabulous meals.

My former colleague also posted about enjoying a cup of coffee and a great book from bed on a Sunday morning. It sounds nice.

It makes me wonder when I stopped enjoying life again. Probably, it was when I stopped progressing.

I guess I'd better get my ass in gear!