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Shikamaru impression

The fatal flaw in the copter game…

I mean, WTF?

Last night I had a talk with Sam. I was in a very bleh mood, such that everything sounded overly difficult and annoying. (There is a character in Naruto who seems to feel that way every day. His most common line is “How troublesome.” Indeed…) Anyway, Sam was trying to cheer me up, partially because he likes me, but also partially I think because he wanted to get GP4 moving, and I wasn’t in the mood for that. His attempts to get me in the mood were unsuccessful.

We ended up talking about how bored I am with my life, and how I wish I was doing something. He made the obvious suggestion, the one I’ve thought of and passed over, which is: write a novel. He then proceeded to describe my own feelings to me, in precise detail. He said that I think I am a failure, and that if I commit myself to try and actually do something, I might find out that I’m right. He said that this fear paralyzes me and keeps me from actually accomplishing anything.

He’s absolutely right.

He seemed disappointed by his inability to prod me into action. Logically, the solution to my problem would be to try to write a novel. If I write one, I might get it published and get some money, so that would solve another problem. But I don’t believe him when he says that I should be able to get something published easily. In my writing classes, the teachers and professionals all talked about how difficult it is to get published, and how brilliant writers are often neglected.

I don’t know, it’s not just that. I think another thing I’m afraid of is writing something mediocre. If that mediocre something got published, I would feel like I had betrayed myself. If people liked something that I thought was half-assed…I don’t know.

I feel like I am just making up excuses instead of going for it. That is probably exactly the case. I am just so scared, and competitive. If I exempt myself from the competition, then I don’t have to feel bad when I lose. That’s how I’ve looked at things for a long time.

This post doesn’t seem to be making any sense, but I’m tired of writing it. I’m not even going to revise.

I wish I wasn’t such a lazy wuss.