Aspirations

I'm finding more and more that I certainly have high aspirations, high hopes, high dreams. And most often times I act on them. And still most often times, I never finish them.
I paint, but not as often as I should, and I want to show, but I rarely go out and find places.
I play the musical saw. I have one and have played it twice. I want to play more often, but I don't. Why, I'm not sure.
I'm trying to write a novel. It's begun, and evolved and died. It began with Bob Barker, it evolved into an obsession with high profile old men, I tried to focus again, and remain on one man, left Bob Barker out, and focused on Iggy Pop. Then stopped mid story for realization that this novel could really go no where. Besides there's no dialogue in it. It's just me telling you what's happening. Most real novels have stories and conversations, and ebbs and flows.
Oh I just realized that it is. I second guess myself. I belive I can do these things. I believe I'm good enough, I'm creative enough to do it. And somewhere along the line, doubt comes into play. And suddenly, I'm not good enough, I'm not creative enough. And I might as well give up now before I humiliate myself.
Who knew this blog could be so therapudic for me?
Through my rambling, basically talking to myself, I could find out so much about how my brain works.
No more doubt. If my novel sucks, it sucks, at least I had fun writing it. If I play the saw terribly, at least I tried, most people don't ever go so far as to try anything new. And if my paintings are atrocious, well screw you, because a lot of myself went into each one. So either my true self is atrocious, or they're all wrong.
I never expected that to end so powerfully. But it did. Now let's see if I can stick with that idea.