It is raining outside, and I have a mellow high artistic environment, with a spice of depressed thoughts.

Depression is quite stimulating environment for writing, my best pieces came out through angry and bitter moods that made me critical as well as satirical, with an added dose of humor. Spicy, humorous and rebellious, but long has passed since those days.

I am not sure did I loose the urge for intellectualism, or was it the forced intellectualism catering to my ego. Oh how smart I am, I am writing all these over the top satirical articles… Now it all looks funny to me, but sometimes I had a bigger passion for ideals. While I still am young, I am unsure of those ideals that I kept in my heart during my late teen days.

A lot of those thoughts were inspired with the way I felt. Young souls are quite poetic, just exploring the world, expressing themselves. Now I feel as if I am in a bit more mature phase of my life, where my creativity is not fueled by that reckless passion, but is more grounded in reality. Perhaps, that is why my writing today carries significantly more practicality of daily life, than the ideals it used to carry.

I’ve been blogging since 2006, and I’ve been journaling since 2001. There certainly is an obvious distinction on the personality change over these 11 years of continuous writing that I noticed over the time.

But what is more important than the ideals, are your dreams. And through the time, my dreams of success never changed much, and my beliefs never let me down. I am carrying those ideals deep inside my heart. Now all you need to do is Understand the pulse of the market, and carve your own path.

Currently I am in the career path of the internet marketer, but I know that my ultimate goal is to be a writer. So as a writer, I have to do what? Write. So would a career of someone who is managing PPC campaigns, messing around with all those marketing techniques impede me in being a writer, or enrich it? How much do I need to write per day in order to feel like I am doing it?

In the end, it’s all about making a living. You can’t really call yourself a writer, if you aren’t making any money writing. So writing, pitching, exploring new venues for my content is what I should be doing daily, if I want to call myself a writer, and not an online marketing manager.

A lot of wannabe writers feel the same way, and they are on the fence of keeping a dreaded day job, or a day job career, while waiting to become a writer. But who is stopping you from becoming what you want, if it’s not your own self?

We all have hopes and dreams, but seems that in that intermediate clash of dreams and fears, somehow fears always win, and push us away from our goals.

As a prolific fan of productivity, I always measure my life’s success in goals, did I achieve them or not? Do I feel as if I achieved what I wanted? What is the set of problems I am facing right now, and how am I handling them?

The dream

There was this extremely weird and motivating dream that I had when I was a young kid. The dream itself was not as important, as the thoughts that followed him, that morning. It was 2nd year of high school, and I had high hopes and expectations of myself.

I am wondering, would that 16 year old kid, be proud of me today?

Would that picture of me as a kid, that looked at me every day when I woke up in my old apartment, would that little 3 year old kid be proud of me?

My environment would claim that I’ve succeeded, but I consistently feel, as if I am letting myself down. There is always this push from the society, to put you “in your place”. And my environment is quite proud of me, but I am not even considering them a benchmark. I feel as if I am not living up to my own standards from just 10 years ago.

Am I being to hard on myself? Perhaps, or even probably. But apparently not hard enough to make myself happy. Eventually it will never be about what other people think of you, it will always be what you think of you, and that is the reason why I love the paradigm of talking with the inner child in me. Me when I was 4 years old, and when I was living the life to the fullest, and truly a time, when I wasn’t thinking too much, yet I was absorbing everything.

Am I absorbing everything today? I feel better just by thinking about it. Triggering my cortex in the areas of happiness and days where thing that truly mattered were the only important things. Am I hungry and am I doing something fun?

Just yesterday I felt like that kid. Bought two desks from Amazon. It was the biggest joy of all, since I got here, ordering a table online and having it shipped basically the next day.

The table came unassembled naturally, and I’ve opened it, and felt like that kid. I was genuinely happy for buying 2 simple shitty desks for 15$ and assembling it. It reminded me of all the days when I was a kid and when I would pull out my whole pack of lego bricks and play with them, without any time constraints what so ever.

Yes, I did assemble those desks within 5–7 minutes, and there was a certain sense of joy of putting them together. But just that ritual of sitting on the floor and having your hands busy with something, was mind blowing.

So when will I be happy?

Within my source code and purpose there is a line that is ultimately fulfilling to me. And maybe this brief period of depression is attached to this rain, but it certainly helped me clarify my path, as well as writing these words.

Needed a brief reminder, that I am still a kid, and that there are accomplishments yet ahead of me. I should forget about all the time constraints and do what feels right. And that I don’t need to settle for “that one thing”, but instead focus on everything I enjoy doing.

The era of multidisciplinary human

This is my big conclusion of all of this thinking today: we are confined within roles, that make us feel certain way. I don’t wish to be in the boundaries of a certain role, as that doesn’t define me as a person. Luckily for me, my two main roles are closely connected to each other. And instead of approaching it as a job, I should approach it as a play.

More happiness, and more things done.