I don’t believe in talent. But maybe that’s because I am mildly talented in a couple of ways, so it’s easy for me to say. School came easily to me, I didn’t have to bother with homework and could pull off solving things on the blackboard if I got called on. At least until high school — then I got a rude awakening in the form of my first failed test. Turns out high school math wasn’t nearly as easy anymore.

Since before that failed high school test, I’ve struggled to be disciplined. To practice. To do the things that I want to do most, instead of just curling up in a ball and moping. Which really is what I want to do a lot of the time. (If you’re a potential employer, please know that I do not indulge this urge while on the clock.) Curling up and moping sounds so appealing. Nothing to be accountable for. Of course, it feels terrible. Afterwards I’m all “oh dear, what have I done with my life.” Scream cat emoji.

Of course, starting a new task can also feel terrible. Especially if it is a creative one, something that brings up all your self-doubt and fear. I often try to get at these things sideways, like “it’s no big deal, just puttering over here, don’t mind me”. Sometimes it works, even.

Earlier this week, someone asked me what was my goal for my writing. It’s a question I’ve asked myself before, and a question others have asked me. I have some pre-packaged answers: to get better at writing, to develop my voice, to talk publicly about the things I’ve learned, to be more visible, to connect with others. But those feel only like partial answers — not untrue, but not complete, either. A smokescreen.

Mostly I put this up on the internet because I have an urge to. Where is it going to take me? I don’t know. Should I care? Maybe not. Maybe I’m just taking my own advice and throwing another pot, simply because I enjoy the squelching noises the clay makes in my hands. Because this is fun.

We get so wrapped up in our Goals and Intentions and Life Plans and whatnot that sometimes we forget to just enjoy the journey. Try not to overthink it.

Here is another pot. Soon, I’ll make another one.