I wanted to learn to play the piano.
Learning to tap the keys with a simplicity and elegance of one who does it for passion, not simply as a lifestyle choice.
Nothing so absurd ... Certainly not aspired to perfection.
And instead I never learned.
Sometimes I find myself stopping to think about such passions in my life I have grown steadily ... Few, very few.
I always had the bitter knowledge that they do not possess any "gift" or special skills.
Just to name a few: I can not draw, they are out of tune, I can not play an instrument, I am embarrassed to dance, I am embarrassed as any other activity involving a foreign audience, I started with two thousand different sports and I dropped them all.
And then I used the damn bored. I'm bored.
I start to do something, anything, and when the novelty abandon everything.
How many months did not write this blog? This explains why.
There are things I love to do and between them there is writing, but there is no in which he can tell them apart.
count breaking balls and get almost to confuse fantasy with reality? I think not.
Return in-band-normality.
discomfort.
I am too ambitious to be able to make do, but fighting against my own limitations, it seems to me a lost game from the start.
Maybe I just need to dig a little ', to make other attempts ...
Ultimately, I doubt I know enough to be able to afford a priori to block the way for other projects, other ideas, however crazy or stupid they may seem.
course be less timid could facilitate self-conscious ...
But we do not like things easy, right?
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