Life in the dull seems to scrap on by without a care to bring itself back into normalcy. It is almost a prison, self-inflicted and self-created. I sometimes wonder why I don’t move. I sometimes wonder why I don’t shift out. Then in the normal discourse of the mind, it travels around and around until I force myself to start the day and fall into production. To be idle is to be nothing. I think upon this. I think upon being idle and not using what God has given me. Wasting away would be a grave disservice to His name. I get up. I gain energy. I walk.