The Whale Belly

I’ve been trying to figure out how to live my life. But the more I struggle, the more I try to force things, the more stuck I become.

I would like to go with the flow more. I would like to follow my natural inclinations, my creative impulses, and not worry so much about whether they’ll pan out. I wasn’t blessed with genius or a single-minded focus, but maybe I’m better off because of that. Instead I have a wide range of interests to play around in every day, if only I’d allow myself to be spontaneous.

I fall into the trap of wanting to become something–a writer, a painter, a philosopher–and then I submit to some dull routine in order to become that thing. When it inevitably becomes joyless drudgery, I beat myself up for not having the will power, not having the passion, not having the talent, to stay interested. Every day I wake up as the same disappointing person; I don’t know what to do with myself, nor do I know why I should bother trying to do anything at all.

But then I’ll open up a sketchbook, start making a list of things I want in life, start doodling, and find myself really enjoying the process. Of course, I would never publish something like this… but, then again, why not? Why not just make things and show them to people, over and over again. Why not just do that, come what may?