Tag Archive: Inspiration


It might seem like the title of this post is irresponsible, as though I’m saying that being prone to addiction is in some way a desirable character trait. In a way, I’m not not saying that; when you think about it, nearly every “negative” character trait has the capacity to act as both a strength and a weakness.

For example, knowing that you’re obsessed with the opinions of others and accepting it about yourself can help you push yourself towards greater levels of achievement than you would have if you tried to “not care what other people think” and instead act purely for your own fulfillment. It is all about finding the positive in yourself and, for lack of a better word, capitalizing on it, rather than trying to force yourself to change into what you think society expects of you.

Knowing that you’re good at one thing and not so good at something else and accepting it is the best way to improve, both at what you’re good at and what you suck at. If I have addictive tendencies and I know it, I’m in a much better position to reap the positive components of it and deal with the negative components constructively. When its dangers creep into my life, I recognize them and alter my behavior, not necessarily with perfect results but at least with results.

If I were to try to deny it, however, and try to just blend in and be “normal,” my behavior would continue to repeat itself, over and over. My life would stagnate and I would not know why, moving from one instance of overdoing it to the next with no real progress. The reason would be very simple: I’m denying the existence of certain parts of myself because society tells me that they are bad. As a result, they are not being managed.

For me, being an addictive person means being attracted to extremes. When I like something, I can’t get enough of it. When I’m engaged in a project that I’m passionate about, I’ll often work on it manically to the exclusion of everything else, including my own health and relationships.  

On a certain level, this might seem like the “lucky” side of being addiction-prone. I get things done. I have a relatively high output of high-quality, impassioned work and projects.

On another level, though, it is not very cool. Often, my interest runs thin before the project is finished, usually because another project, another idea, has supplanted it in my active attention. This leads to numerous unfinished projects that I am, in fact, very passionate about, which introduces a high level of stress originating from myself into my life. I’m still learning to finish one thing before I move onto another, and how to maintain a long-term project even if I start to lose some interest in it.

Before I was a functioning, fully employed adult, it was easier to finish things. The bulk of my short fiction, both of my completed novels, and a completed album were the result of this time of my life. I had more free time and less of an understanding of the crushing reality of workaday life. This was also the time I started to recognize myself as having an addictive personality.

My first addiction was to tobacco. Nothing remarkable about that, except perhaps when you consider that I’d suffered from severe asthma all my life. My parents had always gone to great lengths to keep our cigarette-smoking relatives’ second-hand smoke away from me. I’d used asthma innumerable times in school to get out of gym class or various other responsibilities. And here I was at 18, smoking Winstons like Humphrey Bogart.

In a way, you could say that I was lucky to have asthma, because without its increasingly debilitating effects, I might never have stopped smoking. From what I understand, some people outgrow their asthma. Teddy Roosevelt is one such person, reputedly. I might have outgrown mine too if I had never smoked. Probably not, but I’ll never know now.

My second real addiction was to marijuana. I’ve documented that experience thoroughly on this blog. Realizing early that I might be developing an addiction to it helped me avoid trying other, more dangerously addictive drugs like cocaine. That was very lucky too, from a certain point of view.

My third intense addiction was to alcohol. That was very short-lived and might challenge the definition of “addiction,” somewhat, being the symptom of a very specific period of heartbreak. During this time, I did nothing but drink alcohol and eat candy, at least that’s what certain friends have said. They would ask me what I’m doing later that night, and my answer would be, “I’m going to drink.”

Now, I drink less than once a month. Thankfully, I’ve been able to keep that one in check without having to totally abstain. With help, I started healing from the main occurrences in my life that drove me to it. As I started getting into physical fitness, I also was able to recall the negative health effects of alcohol and how it tends to tire me out, which I don’t like. Sometimes, I still rely on it somewhat as a social lubricant. Someday, if I choose to work at it enough, maybe I won’t have to.

My third addiction was to working out at the gym, which supplanted alcohol at the tail-end of that deeply heartbroken period. Five to six days per week of intense exercise translated into overtraining, insomnia, and hundreds of dollars spent on supplements like creatine pills and human growth hormone boosters. I later realized these products had begun to serve the purpose that psychotropic drugs once served, a mentality of “hey, let’s see what this does to my body.” God knows what crap I was swallowing in those unregulated pills and powders.

And now onto the next addiction. I view pornography as a potentially addictive drug. If you cannot live without it, you are addicted to it. That doesn’t make it or you bad, but that’s the situation. I couldn’t seem to live without it. Exactly as was the case with marijuana, I was incapable of using it “only once in awhile,” “in moderation,” or “whenever.” So I stopped using it. I haven’t consumed any of it in over five months and I foresee continuing this way indefinitely. Maybe I’ll write a separate blog post about that sometime.

To be honest, I have a feeling many, many people don’t use porn “once in awhile.” I bet a lot of people use it everyday. I bet a lot of people can’t get aroused without it. And I bet, if you were to take it away from them (not that I’m condoning taking it away), it would result in other problematic behaviors, possibly ones entailing greater levels of harm to themselves and others. Or it would just lead to intense anxiety and depression.

The thing is, if you are unable to recognize your own addictive tendencies, things like porn, working out, alcohol, and marijuana can have very negative effects on your feelings of self-worth, your health, your relationships, your ambitions, your feelings of having control over your own life. Problematic, dangerous behaviors “keep coming up” and limiting your progress. Just admit you have no control over them, find other ways to deal with the stressors of your life, and abstain from them forever. Simple.

Obviously I’m kidding in that last sentence. As I said, I didn’t have to give up alcohol forever, and clearly I didn’t give up exercise since I work in the fitness industry. What I did have to do, though, was understand and accept what I am capable of controlling and what I’m incapable of controlling. That takes humility, a type that sets me free and lets me move forward in life, whereas pride in such circumstances would do nothing but restrict me to repeating the same stupid behaviors over and over again and living a pretty unbalanced life. Oddly enough, introducing an element of extremism—complete abstinence—can bring more balance to someone’s life than trying in vain to remain “moderate.”

So is this what makes me lucky as an addictive person? The “character” that develops in the face of adversity? Well, it is not really adversity because I choose to engage in these behaviors. Nor do I fetishize adversity as being necessary for character development. The shittiness of the world makes it necessary to be able to deal with shittiness, and the best way to know how to deal with shittiness is to be faced with it yourself. But if the world was a better place, if people’s lives were universally more comfortable and safer and they had a greater sense of self-worth and more opportunity to express that sense, there would be absolutely no value to complicating their lives for its own sake.

Is it that I am able to dedicate myself to projects and push through where others might give up? As I mentioned, I love all of the work and writing that I do, but it would be nice to be able to work on projects regularly, a little bit at a time, instead of seemingly needing to steep myself in them for days at a time. 

It would also be nice to feel like I’m choosing what to put my time and effort into. Addiction does not equate to passion, unfortunately. For me, it pertains to a certain baseline level of fear and the urge to circumvent that fear. Whatever I’m addicted to is acting as an escape, as a frenzied, dashed-off expression of hilarious terror, rather than as balanced, chosen piece of meticulous work. My best work is often done when I’m not feeling addicted or obsessed, when my life is balanced which happens so very rarely. This is because I’m calmer than those other times; I’m giving my mind a chance to really focus on what I’m doing. I’m not driven by fear of dying before I get everything onto the page. I’m driven by love of what I’m doing.

Sometimes addiction can feel that way too. Sometimes it is that way. Doing what you love is a double-edged sword because you know that what you are doing will end someday, so it is possible to do it both out of love and out of fear. Love is crazy like that.

But in general, no. I wish my life could be more rational, compartmentalized, and prioritized, and not seem to require such a massive effort of oversight and self-management, even though I know my extreme, unconventional way of thinking helps give me the potential to do great things.

No, what makes me lucky is that I’ve been given things that I’m passionate about that make my life worth living, and that I’ve received the help and support and love and education from various sources that I needed. If I didn’t have my passions, like writing and music, I might not have found a reason to stop smoking weed. If I wasn’t loved, I probably wouldn’t have stopped drinking. If I wasn’t made aware of the tendency of American society to encourage excesses and self-destructive behaviors, I might not have taken the steps necessary to avoid falling prey to the same fate as innumerable young people who, being unstimulated by society, “buy in” to various misguided ideas about youth and “rebelliousness” that lead them to self-destruct and deprive themselves of any greater dreams and goals in life, such as working to change the society that failed them.

I’m not lucky because of my addictive personality, nor entirely in spite of it. Rather, I’m lucky because, with help, I figured out a way to have it start complementing who I am. Personal growth is not about fighting yourself. It’s about accepting yourself for who you are so that you don’t have to be frightened of yourself and use your addictions or vices as an escape. It’s about making yourself complementary to who you are and to your reality so that you can grow beyond yourself, and make your reality grow beyond itself. It’s about believing that you’re okay the way you are, while simultaneously trying to do better. And once you can do that, you’ll do the greatest things of your life.

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Living as a Habit

Every personal problem in life consists of either doing too much or not enough of something. Every habit is either bad or good, and just “doing whatever” becomes less and less of an option.

I was doing well at maintaining an almost daily routine of practicing drums for an upcoming competition. Suddenly I was hospitalized with an infectious disease, and it threw me out of my habit. Now, having returned home, the deadline is three days sooner and I know I haven’t practiced enough. I find myself in a habit of NOT practicing, and a habit of anxiety has also appeared: worrying about the fact that I haven’t practiced. These two habits feed off of each other, so that actually returning to my practicing habit gets pushed further and further away.

Yet, while I was in the hospital for three days, I started editing the manuscript of my novel-in-progress, and a positive editing habit came out of this unwelcome interruption to my practicing habit. It wouldn’t be unlike me, either, to bury my anxiety about the one bad habit of neglecting my drum practice in the good habit of novel-editing. But why is it so difficult to just have them both running at once, like two programs on my computer?

Here I am, productive and secure, yet there’s always another good habit I could be cultivating. Even this blog, and virtual life in general…it would be swell to write on this thing every day, to get followers on twitter (@mrludas), friends on facebook (search for me), visitors to my website (here), et cetera. But that’s another habit that requires my attention, to get into and stay into. And it doesn’t pay to mess around with them sporadically. Therein lies half-assedness.

There was period in my early twenties when habits were unnecessary, or so it seemed. I went from one creative endeavor to the next, to the next, and accomplished something in each one.

When I was having what is sometimes described as a quarterlife crisis, a friend of mine told me about something John Cassavetes once said: “Part of you dies in your early twenties.” Is this the part that wants to be free from anything clear and regulated? The part that wants to be spaced out and unattached to anything practical so that all creativity can flow unimpeded?

I was given a great gift to have some years free for creative development. And I have, at one time or another, wished to return to that state, only to find it impossible. As a twenty-seven year old, I find I need something that I didn’t need back then: motivation. Back then, inspiration drove everything. Anything that got in the way of inspiration was my enemy, like a work habit, for instance. When I started working at Starbucks (at my father’s earnest request for my employment), I found it was difficult to whip out a notebook and scribble down my idea while making someone’s complicated beverage, or cleaning the cafe floor during peak hours.

That work habit, the first real one of my life, almost destroyed inspiration entirely, for once you get out of the habit of answering Inspiration’s phonecalls, she soon stops calling. Now, habits like being a late sleeper still keep productivity down, by depriving me of daytime when I could be writing, editing, drumming, painting, cleaning my home, communicating with friends or relatives, working out, eating to supplement my current weight-gaining diet, scoring with chicks, ANYthing. But all of those tasks seem to require habits now, concerted efforts, and they didn’t before. By “they,” I guess I mean the things that were important to me didn’t require either habits or effort. I just went ahead and did them. Now, these more grown-up tasks require going outside, interacting with people, researching, making dates, driving, purchasing things, even, God Forbid, earning money. This is the natural way of things, for as we get older and more developed, we get into more complicated areas of life, where more thinking is required, and more personal responsibility. And so the simpler parts of our minds may atrophy if they aren’t actively maintained, through positive habits. See my post on First Love Syndrome for more on this uplifting phenomenon.

Now, I need to feel motivation, direction, clarity, reasoning. And I need to be constantly resisting and sloughing off the bad habits, getting out of them, in order to stay in the good ones.

But it’s hard to conjure up motivation from nothing. It was easier when my dreamy, half-baked mind just got up and did things on its own. I guess what I’m doing now is better, in style and in execution, in strength of voice and in quantity of experiences to draw upon. So it should be harder.

Without a doubt, its betterness is partly due to my later efforts to write something that someone else would actually want to read when I realized I wanted to be a writer for a living. This, as opposed to writing mainly (though unknowingly) for myself with a vague hope that my earth-shattering genius would eventually buy me an uncompromised future of societal acceptance and adulation.

But such are the naive notions of youth. It’s easy for a young literature student to believe that everything Kafka or Dostoevsky or Shakespeare wrote was a first draft. If I’m really good enough, I should be able to write perfect first drafts too, I thought, and innovate not by learning and understanding literary conventions but by rejecting them.

As a wise, roadworn, habit-driven writer once said, “I don’t like writing. I like having written.” This describes perfectly the raw truth of the situation: if you do anything you love for long enough, eventually it becomes work, a means to an end, no longer an end in itself. And once you’ve actually done it, you can enjoy it because it brings you satisfaction. If you love it, you’ll do it for your entire life and be glad to do it. But you better get into a habit of finding that satisfaction, or else you’ll find yourself failing at the one thing you know you love, and failure of that sort can be the hardest habit to break.