Sometimes everything is fine, and I’m all happy and cheerful and joking all over the place. I’m surprised how good everything goes, how perfect most of my countless little problems work out without me doing anything special. I’m just doing what I’m doing all the time, and the flow of life is perfect – perfect harmony.

But that state isn’t endless. Then, one day, I always wake up and think: This is going to be bad. And then the bad days start. They are always different, and of different length. A few hours, two days, a week … and, if I’m not paying attention, weeks and weeks and weeks. I think my record was one or two months, last spring. It was horrible. My grades are one of many visible proofs.

Since then I’ve learned a lot. To be particular, I’ve especially learned a lot in the past two weeks or so. A book, it’s called “The Artist’s Way”, showed me the way and did the majority of the work. The rest I did without thinking much about what I was doing. I just tried it out.

I’m big when it comes to trying things out, exploring new challenges and projects that look like fun. Maybe I’m even bigger at lying projects down again and deciding that they carry too much responsibility and seriousness for me. I like to have fun – but I don’t like if that fun becomes a regular duty. The ‘you have to’ hart makes it stale and grey. Not fun anymore.

I wonder why it’s always this way. I’ve started twice as many things as I’ve finished, likely more, I’m just guessing now.

But why does that have to happen to me? Everything is perfect, and then … everything vanishes somehow. I’m ignorant. I mean, in theory I know that the world is neither perfect nor working on it’s own, without any help from me. Working with that principle is a lot more difficult for me.

I guess I’m just rambling anyway, haha. I don’t want to be that way.

It also is a problem that I let myself fall into that bad mood – and then I turn on some sad music, read the blog of a very lovely, but sometimes very d...

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