What am I doing?
Yeah, I know I'm a complete failure at blogging. But hey, it made my Google+ views go way up without ever creating a Google+ account. And today, when I finally did, holy shit. Dem views. I'm, like, popular? No, not really. In reality, I'm an awkward, tiny-handed girl who works in a field in which questions like "Is there a man that could help me with this?" get asked every day.
I'm a girl. I'm a shitty designer. I take pictures and I start hobbies I can't finish. Is there a point at which someone like me finally buckles down and picks a hobby to get really good at, or am I doomed to roam the earth forever, spouting jokes and learning the bare minimum needed to talk about a hobby?
Lately, I've been thinking (oh, surprise, surprise). What should I be doing with my life? Working retail and thinking about what I want to do with my life? Watching videos of other people succeeding and sucking up their happiness like a sponge at the bottom of a draining sink? No, man! I wanna be hip to it! I want the good stuff and I want to be really good at something.
But what? I like designing this video game I'm working on.
Cool Naked Jim is too cool to go into right now.
I like photography, and I can do it while I do other stuff. Like traveling and hiking, which is also really cool. Or should I make a movie? I have an idea. Just like my millions of book ideas, or my many drawings, or singer/songwriting stint in which I called myself "The Seduction of Alien Tears" like I was a one-man band. Lots of potential, and lots of ambition, but with less than half the motivation required for me to keep at it.
Help? How do I do things like a real adult? How does one finish a project? I don't think I ever have.
There is a motivation inside of me, but it's fueled by competition. I like to be better than others at things. It fills me with weird accomplishment. But then there are those better than me. And they take away that motivation without ever knowing I even tried to beat them at something.
Maybe I should just take up knitting.
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