Doubt

A confession.

I gave up a lot for the dream. But sometimes I wonder, not if it's worth it, but if I can make it happen. Because here is an unassailable truth - my left-trained brain never handled right-brained tasks so well.

There are some things I know. I know that I have the passion, the drive, the desire. I know that I have the raging, pain-in-the-arse drive for perfection, because sometimes it turns on me when I can't get it. I know that you need to sacrifice, and I'm okay with that, because I've done it before. I know I'll never have pretty hands or ever be rich. I work my arse off every single day to make this work.

But.

I go by gut, by feel, by sheer animal instinct more often than I stop to untangle threads of logic. I dream in color. I fall for the sheer beauty of words. I sketch suggestions of form and expression, and I comprehend by concepts and not detail. I commit to memory by impact, by sight and not by rote, and I am more likely to recall the grace in the arch of bone than the name of muscle from which it finds said bone as its origin. I don't answer questions in point form because I miss the flow.

And here is another unassailable truth: determination, sheer bloody-mindedness and diligence can get you so far. But ability is another story. And sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder.

Edit: And this is why I love my friends so much. Thank you, The Raj, and The Other Cat, for peeling me off the ceiling.

Edit: Aaaaaaaaaaand we're back on the ceiling.