What is this thing they call "Discipline"?

I read these books all the time, and they're by these people who write and they know what they're talking about, and they say that the key to being a writer is discipline. They say that the only way to get anything done is to wake up every morning at the same time, go to your computer, and write, even if the stuff you write is crap. Now, for me, having a routine seems like the most anti-writer, anti-inspiration thing ever. But then again, I wasn't getting much writing done without a routine. When I sit around and wait for inspiration, it comes to me at the worst times. i.e. when I'm driving, when I was in class, in the middle of talking to a friend, while drenched in sweat at some house party in college. Then, you sit down at a computer two hours later, and you can't for the life you remember what your inspiration was about. Was it about lamps? Was it about a baseball game? Was it something that your friend said two months ago?

So, I'm trying to find this newfangled thing called discipline. It's worked so far...in the two days that I've done it. I get up at 8, eat breakfast, drink some tea. I fix my second cup of tea while my computer boots up. Then, I sit on the lower deck of my parents' house and attempt to write for 2-3 hours. (Really, I attempt to keep myself off Facebook.) I started a story. Yesterday, I had inspiration. Today, I didn't. But...at least I wrote something down. Then, towards the end of my writing time, I try to make myself write a blog entry before I go out job-hunting. Not sure how this routine will work when I do have a job, but we'll see. Who knew that those experts could be right?

SIDE NOTE: There's a really obnoxious bird in the tree about 5 yards away from my head. *SQUA-EEP, SQUA-EEP* That's my attempt at imitating the noise it's making at an incredibly high decibel and volume. It's times like these that I wish I could take after my grandfather. He liked birds, but he hated the squirrels that would eat the bird food and chase the birds away. So, he would sit on the back porch with his BB gun and shoot at the squirrels' butts to scare them. I'd like a BB gun right now. (Don't worry, environmentalists...I wouldn't actually shoot the bird.) Instead, I suppose I'll just blame the stupid SQUA-EEP bird on my lack of inspiration. Fair enough?