A year later, at 17, I decided to learn to play, and the electric guitar was the obvious choice with a bold dream of recording an album right from the start.

Fast forward to 2025, and I still haven’t written and published a song. Was it imposter syndrome or perfectionism that stopped me? Maybe I lacked talent or the guts to go after it? Maybe music was never meant for me? Maybe it’s time to get serious and forget those teenage dreams?

Those were the kind of questions I had been continuously asking myself until recently, when right here I started writing in public.

I have a long history of repeatedly burning out on creative projects or juggling a job and a creative practice. I didn’t know sustainable creative practice was even possible. And by sustainable, I mean one that is integrated with a life, not one that competes with it. One that is aimed at long distance, not a crash and burn race to complete a project and find relief.

Life in my experience, unfolds in distinct chapters. Chapters separated by periods of confusion before clarity eventually forms from the noise.

Those “waiting room” stages are typically fairly annoying, but having gone through many cycles like this (the first time I documented the experience in 2014 in a short comic and later in my first documentary), I’ve learned to value them for what they really are — accelerated learning periods when it’s possible to get beyond what you know about yourself.