Perhaps I should just stop doing this

This is self-reflection.

There's a school of thought that says that you follow your passion projects only as much as is needed to make you happy, and no more. So say someone says they want to write a novel but stop at writing two chapters, what they really wanted out of the experience was to write two chapters of a novel, the rest was just aspirational, they should not feel bad about not following their dreams and what not just move on and do what your mind desires don't blame yourself for flaming out and giving up on dreams and wishes. Etcetera.

Perhaps I've given up on my aggressive writing schedule given up on writing fiction every day, given up on writing 2-3k words every day given up on writings with the writing groups given up on my dreams to write novels is that this is all I wanted out of my writing experience -- a couple of hundred words here and there every couple of days and maybe a lot of words once a week or so and nothing more no fiction nothing perhaps they were all aspirational. Just aspirational, no dreams.

Or perhaps because of all the things happening around and in my life, I'm okay being where I am in my life and a field that's not particularly satisfying interesting as it may be and I'm okay being seen as a technology person etcetera with very few outside interests and I'm okay living that life I don't need the hard work and pressure of actually seriously writing editing suffering feeling guilt depression sadness going back to write and completing my works.

Perhaps I'm just lazy perhaps I do actually want all those things but I can't make myself because I'm lazy. This thought doesn't work out though because if I'm lazy and if my laziness is the thing stopping me from reaching to the stars then clearly my dreams are not powerful enough my aspirations not heartfelt enough for me to overcome them. Clearly then laziness is what gives me more happiness and enjoyment then hard-work dedication and the honing of the craft to get where I want to be.

Perhaps I don't want to hone my craft. Perhaps there is no craft. Perhaps there's only secret shame and desperation and sadness and delusion. Perhaps this is a fear of the delusion being unwound and I want to stave that off, still in the hopes that I might one day write and become an author author.

I need to average two posts a day for this month, no matter what and the time's running out. And thus all the posts from today.

Whoo knows man, whoo knows.