Lamentations of a Lukewarm Writer

I usually feel things deeply at the very beginning of my day, or during the late close of it. Either polar portion of the day is opportune for the recording of my thoughts, as they are too tired to be filtered. They offer honesty and insight and somewhat overdramatic emotions. In the morning, my emotions are tender and sensitive, usually resulting in unreliable streams of thought. On some mornings, I am more than happy to greet the early sunrise. I exhale patiently, thanking God for the very essence of this waking moment. I am excited to live this day. Of course there are groggy days when my thoughts are overcast and I am unable to complete any simple sentence passing through my head. I drift somewhere between comfort and despair in the early loneliness. Late night thoughts are always the “long-time-coming” type. The deeply buried feelings finally surface and I am forced to contemplate my situation, although I rarely arrive upon any definite conclusion. I chew on indecision for a late night snack, digest the day’s happenings, and eventually go to sleep on a full stomach. It does, however, take slowly ticking time for my mind to turn off. I suppose these thoughts grow bored and transcend into the bizarre dream world. They only sort of make sense.
The problem with early morning thinking and late night reflection is that during these times, I am resistant to writing things down. It is not a result of laziness, but rather a terrible fear that at the every moment I begin to record, the moment itself will vanish and I will be left with a mind vacant of any inspiration at all. Acknowledge that I am getting somewhere, and it’s all over then. I’m as useless as an adolescent boy caught up in the latest video game. Throughout the day, I am too busy—too loud to even attempt writing a piece. Instead, I jot down passing thoughts occurring throughout my activities, hoping I will eventually return to them on some quiet evening when I am both capable of dissecting the very potential of that thought. Perhaps something worth creative exploration will surface. Perhaps not. So when do I write? I don’t. I mean, I haven’t done much in the past month. I am a lukewarm writer. I suppose I am simply being a winy and defiant student who is all too eager to offer lame excuses for lack of productivity. But I must find my balance between seized moments of passion and trained discipline if I am to continue.

I welcome any advice.