The Artist Who’s Never Been Driven At All?

Some artists have a “creative mania.” They work day in and day out, like motors that feed on air. To outsiders, their path to artistry is simple—in the same sense as the simplest way to break into a bank is to pull out the battering ram. Just work tirelessly. Hammer it out. And it may even seem to happen spontaneously, involuntarily.

For me, though, it would take not only passion to reach this state (and…drugs?), but a lot of stifling work.

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Schedule Slip and Not-So-Daily Tasks

Apparently when I give myself too many “every day” “every month” “every two weeks”-type tasks, I start to get overwhelmed. And rather than that overwhelmed-ness stoking a fire in me, it can kind of lead to…apathy.

It feels like the task itself is easy, but the run-up to actually beginning the task is difficult. No, the run-up isn’t even difficult for me right now. It’s the consistency part.

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The Downward Spiral of Self-Deprecation

So I’m going through life, and something innocuous hits me wrong. I don’t feel like being specific, so…let’s pretend it’s an umbrella. Sure. Maybe umbrellas have never bothered me a single moment in my life, until now, this day, when my subconscious mind makes a connection between umbrellas and my deepest fears. A truly unhelpful one.

I spot an umbrella on the ground and for some reason, just seeing it sends a pang through my nerves. A Downward Spiral of Self-Deprecation begins:

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Do I Even Have Time for All My Hobbies?

What happened to all that random fun crap I used to do?!

I guess I just got older and busier. Boo-hoo, that’s what happens to pretty much everyone. And yet I’m gonna talk more about it, and how I subconsciously vetted my hobbies to make the most of them.

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Catgirl System is Now Live…!! (Plus a Brief Writing Update)

That’s right. I’ve started posting it online and slathering additional secret chapters on Patreon. Now that the advertising is out of the way, I can move on to…reflection!

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Dancercise! …For Those With No Moves

The only way I can motivate myself to exercise until I sweat—and I mean real, droplets-flinging-into-my-eyes-like-I-just-got-out-the-shower sweat—is by dancing with wild abandon. And yet I have no rhythm. That’s why I keep the windows closed.

Wait…my blinds collapsed a month ago. Never mind that part.

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