Randomness Reflections Thoughts

“Fake It Until You Make It” – Random Thoughts on Determination

A few random thoughts on determination and what it means to be creative in a digital world.

It’s so easy to get distracted, to lose focus and stop doing the work that needs to get done. Excuses are rampant with blame being cast upon internal and external reasons, beings, deities, and weather. The Imposter Syndrome, the Fraud Police, awards and praise, all present in the face of success. All make it that much harder to feel determined to want and to work for more.

Depression, inspiration, comparison, procrastination, and busywork rear their ugly heads in the trenches of creation. Loneliness breeds a need for connection. We’ll settle for anyone, but we often choose to buy the candied words of the sycophant: “You’re great. Everything you do is perfect. I want you.”

No one wants to be lied to. Everything can be improved upon.

Your mask reveals your lust for perfection. Your mask hides your insecurity and lack of motivation to push forward. Your mask is your loss of faith in your creative ingenuity. Your mask is the acceptance of ignorance and heresy that in order to succeed you must look and behave like everyone else. Moo.

What do you do when your determination has waned and your faith–in art, business, creativity, God, gods, the world, humanity–is left for dead in an untouched corner of your soul?

Do you fake it until you make it?



You just make it.

Because if you fake it long enough, you’ll make it a habit and eventually people will know. You’ll know.

We know when we are sold lies, concealed in the polish of marketing, advertising, and politics. We know that when race and gender are strategically placed next to the corporate logos of finance, insurance, fast food, and healthcare a statement is made about value: The greatness of the logo is legitimatized by the inclusion of all people. Even if it’s a lie. Or a stereotype.

But we don’t care anymore.

The polish of modern society numbs the despair felt when we realize we sold our soul, our art, and our voice for the weekend. Sold for our security in a system meant to keep people in line, dropping existential quarters in the slot machine of life. Waiting to hit the jackpot; dying at each pull of the lever.