Fear of a blank canvas and undeserved rewards.

I was never the kid to run through a field of freshly-fallen snow. I loathed the idea of ruining perfection.

That was very considerate of Young Me, and I’m sure untouched-snow enthusiasts the world over have appreciated my efforts over the years and my medal probably just got lost in the mail. But that strict self-forbidding has carried into terrible adulthood habits.

As a wannabe writer/artist/whatever-the-kids-are-dancing-to-these-days, I’ve owned a lot of notebooks over the years. The horrible thing is that I’ve never filled a single one of them. Most aren’t even half full.

It’s nothing unusual; fear of finishing something is the motor that runs procrastination, and we all know that Twitter and smartphones and that new rock music are wearing our attention spans down to coffee grounds, right? If we waste all our time doing silly little things, we’re free from the crushing responsibility of true, humongous, scary significance. I plan to turn this around, and my first step was buying a fancy new sketchbook.

And it’s all nostalgic and it cones with stickers!

Sure, it looks like an impulse buy, but it’s actually BRAVERY! A challenging new step in taking back control of my life or something to that effect! The catch is, I’m not letting myself touch a page of this beauty until I’ve exhausted all other resources. If I fill an entire page of one if my older current books every single day, I’ll be scribbling in my Pac-Man in less than two years!

This is my mission. And I’ll probably fail like every other time I’ve tried something like this. But it’s worth trying, and if nothing else, it was a fantastic excuse to buy a shiny new thingy.

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