Quiet time? How 'bout some E! News?

So this, along with a bowl of Frosted Flakes, has been my morning routine. What had previously been a good 30 to 60 minutes of quiet contemplation filled with spiritual readings and meditation, has degenerated into a noisy, in-your-face, turbo-charged countdown rocketing me into the day. And how can I really expect to make any spiritual progress when I start it with Ryan Seacrest?

I used to be more disciplined. I used to search for zen and get all 'ohm' but now? I fake it. Sure, I download the latest Krista Tippett to my iPod, keep "Jesus for the Non-religious" and "Christ the Yogi" on my headboard, I even contemplate the spiders I've displaced with my weeding, but true silence? My teenage alter ego says, Fuck that!

I have to admit, I'm a little afraid of what will drive me back to such discipline. Normally, it's pain. And that just doesn't sound like a whole lotta fun. And that speaks to the core of my problem. I want to have fun, I want to be entertained, I want to live without cause or worry or responsibility. And then I have to wake up.

Damn alarm clock!

Maybe one day I'll make it back to my oatmeal with walnuts, my 24-Hours-A-Day book, my Daily Reflections, and my basic text. Maybe one day I'll simply decide, "You know, being all wacked out on sugar and caffeine really isn't helping me!"

But right now, for today? I'll watch with anticipation, waiting for Guiliana to stab Seacrest in the neck with the heal of her Monolo. Those flakes are GRRRREAT!

Oh God, I'm in trouble. . .