(no subject)
I was cleaning my disaster of a room today and found my incomplete Johnny Carson portrait utterly demolished. I have no idea how it ended up under all the rest of my trash, but there it was. I promptly crumpled it up and threw it away, but not before realizing how this disappointment could have been avoided along with many others.
I have a horrible tendency to procrastinate. There's not a doubt in my mind that it's my biggest personality flaw. I look back on my artistic achievements and pine for the accomplishments I could have had if only I'd not been so lethargic. In fact, this could be applied to nearly aspect of my life.
I couldn't live with myself knowing how much potential I had and how much I decided not to use. Mental leisure is excruciatingly addictive to me, so much so that I will neglect everything for extended periods of time just to soak in my dreams and fantasies. It's euphoric, therapeutic, and it's pathetic.
This rut has gone on long enough. I'm sick of being afraid of failure; so anxiously and neurotically fixated on this negative outcome that I cripple myself just thinking about it. I refuse to let myself be a part of it anymore.
This won't be easy. It will mean cutting off every current reward-receptor in my brain and forming new ones. I'm writing this now so every day I can read it when the veil of apathy tries to slide over my eyes. I need to be constantly reminded that failure is inevitable if success is not relentlessly pursued.
I consider this a declaration of my will, which I plan to look back on and smile, knowing I had what it took.
I have a horrible tendency to procrastinate. There's not a doubt in my mind that it's my biggest personality flaw. I look back on my artistic achievements and pine for the accomplishments I could have had if only I'd not been so lethargic. In fact, this could be applied to nearly aspect of my life.
I couldn't live with myself knowing how much potential I had and how much I decided not to use. Mental leisure is excruciatingly addictive to me, so much so that I will neglect everything for extended periods of time just to soak in my dreams and fantasies. It's euphoric, therapeutic, and it's pathetic.
This rut has gone on long enough. I'm sick of being afraid of failure; so anxiously and neurotically fixated on this negative outcome that I cripple myself just thinking about it. I refuse to let myself be a part of it anymore.
This won't be easy. It will mean cutting off every current reward-receptor in my brain and forming new ones. I'm writing this now so every day I can read it when the veil of apathy tries to slide over my eyes. I need to be constantly reminded that failure is inevitable if success is not relentlessly pursued.
I consider this a declaration of my will, which I plan to look back on and smile, knowing I had what it took.