Life has been chaotic. Moving countries and shifting jobs in one quarter has left me feeling directionless in life. Since I’ve been in survival mode for the past 3 years, I didn’t have the luxury of taking things slowly—but now, it’s time to find my way back. One nice aspect of my current position is […]
Life has been chaotic. Moving countries and shifting jobs in one quarter has left me feeling directionless in life. Since I’ve been in survival mode for the past 3 years, I didn’t have the luxury of taking things slowly—but now, it’s time to find my way back.
One nice aspect of my current position is that it offers those all-important insurance benefits, great hours, and awesome pay. Now, there’s at least a little bit of time to take my foot off the gas. Life still feels like it hurdles by too quickly to document everything, but at least now I can continue to build my digital presence.
My last post reflects on some of the difficulties of directionless wandering and stagnation. Deep down, this stagnation probably stems from my fear and inability to commit to anything. Those of you who regularly read my blog know that my thinking—and therefore my writing—tends to be cynical, reflective, and ruminative. With my chaotic life, even my writing ends up directionless.
At this stage in my life, I’m past the point of youthful optimism. With age, I’ve sunk pretty deeply into the day-to-day mundanity of an average 21st-century adulthood.
Continuing to Water Seeds that Haven’t Sprouted
As cynical as I get with age and adulthood, I can’t seem to shake all the naivety.
Deep down, I still think that all my effort might one day bear fruit. The 10, 16, and 22-year-old versions of myself in my mind refuse to die. When I think back to earlier in life, I was stupidly optimistic that things would “work out.”
Still, that part of my brain wanes when I continually fail while striving toward my goals. It’s getting harder to believe failure is a part of success each time I dust myself off… especially when it feels like I’m dusting myself off in the same place.
Still, there are certain songs I blast when I want to sit in that space of self-belief.
Project Dreams is one of those songs I can put on repeat for an hour without thinking. The rags-to-riches angle gives me just enough of that feeling again—it helps that the song is co-produced with Marshmello. Alone got me through some rough moments in college.
And after looping Project Dreams, I’ll usually end up playing Noticed—another rags-to-riches story from a rapper out of Seattle.
It’s nice to throw on headphones and just… sit in that version of life for a bit. Even if it’s fake.
A Part of Mundane Adult Existence
Almost every emotionally mature adult I know does or has done some form of mental health care. Because I have insurance, there wasn’t really a reason for me to avoid seeking outside help.
Before I started therapy, my image of it was very hand-holdy, kumbaya, coddling… but the reality is pretty different. My therapist gives me space to talk, listens, but also challenges some preconceived thoughts and opinions.
- “Why do you think improving this skill with plenty of jobs in the field is useless?”
- “Walk me through why you don’t think you are good enough.”
- “Do you think it’s normal to think about death this much?”
It’s a safe space, but it’s still an environment where your mental models get challenged.
Managing the Weight of Feeling Directionless in Life
I find it especially helpful when my own beliefs stop serving me—or start actively working against me. I currently work with two therapists and a psychiatrist, which might sound like a lot. But I’ve found that different mental health professionals push on different parts of my brain. They bring up things I probably wouldn’t on my own.
It’s not glamorous. There’s not always a breakthrough moment. No award, no trophy.
It’s not for everyone, but I’d rather work through my stuff here than have it leak out somewhere else.
Therapists are people too—so not everyone clicks—but I’ve been lucky with the options here in Washington.
Feeling Directionless like a Starfish to Thinking Like a Sloth
There are periods of my life where I go through intense focus. It’s usually when I’m pushing toward a goal.
Honestly, though, most of the time I feel like I’m just drifting through existence.
And then there are the worse periods.
When I recognize my actions are bad for me, but I still can’t seem to stop. I don’t even know if it’s a self-control issue or something else.
“Sleep is sometimes better than existing.”
LaidbackMarco
When Feeling Directionless in Life, Rotting in Bed is Better than Existing
When I’m feeling lost, overwhelmed, or emotionally incapacitated, I default to sleep as a numbing agent. Not good sleep either—the quality is low, there are no dreams, and it doesn’t really improve anything.
The modern term for cosplaying death is “bed rotting.” Basically just lying down, scrolling, and wasting time.
Even that can feel like too much effort sometimes.
Around my house, we call the worse version of that—just staying inside and doing nothing—Starfishing.
When I get into a really bad mood, I take the posture of a starfish drying up in the sun. Arms out. Staring at the ceiling or walls. Time passes, and nothing happens.
I just… sit there.
Patrick Star isn’t exactly a role model, but as I get older, I’m starting to understand him more than I’d like to admit. It’s easy to start bed-rotting when you’re feeling directionless in life, but even Patrick Star has a routine of sorts.
He enjoys sleeping in for hours, watching TV and consuming large quantities of junk food, and he’ll occasionally go outside to hang out with friends or engage in sometimes childish activities like sandboarding, bubble blowing and jellyfishing.
Honestly… not that far off.
As a homebody, I’ve definitely been starfishing more than I should these past few weeks.
Because Slow Efficient Progress is better Than Zero
To say I’ve Starfished all of last month would be a little bit of an overexaggeration. In the last three weeks, there were still tasks that needed to be done—laundry to be run, trash to be junked (I’ll be here all evening), etc.
Life doesn’t just pause when you do, the uncaring constant inertia of sand mercilessly falling from the hourglass still ticks on. Although my body was stagnant in between the respite of sleep, chores, and self-care, my mind was racing. It was like my mind was trying to build a framework to get me out of the situation I walked myself into.
When I fall into starfishing, it gets bad real fast. I just needed a small win to crawl out of it.
Sloth mindset, I guess? I willed myself to move slowly. Progress was slow, but I was at least moving.
Those small victories came in the form of:
- reorganizing the living room
- applying for jobs
- getting a much-needed set of tires.
I wasn’t exactly flying, soaring, or thriving…
but it wasn’t a death spiral anymore.
Beginning to Believe
One of the most iconic scenes in cinema is when Neo starts to believe in “the impossible.”
Bending the rules of the system that once oppressed him.
Not to say that I’m being oppressed by modern society—although we all are to a certain extent… and some of that is probably a good thing.
Have you seen people play GTA… yeah, that’s a peek at life without guardrails.
Putting that thought aside, it’s been a lot of work to even start believing I could turn things around.
I don’t know what exactly did it—therapy, people around me, small wins… probably all of it.
- What if I had structure?
- What if I kept trying??
- What if I turned pro?
What would a day in the life fifteen years from now look like if I didn’t keep fucking it up??
I’m not sure if I’m delusional and stubborn…
But one thing I do know is that I’m not living up to my potential.
Deja Vu
I’ve gone through cycles of belief and doubt before… this all feels pretty familiar.
What’s actually going to be different this time?
I keep coming back to this idea of focusing on the process instead of the results.
The results aren’t really something I can control anyway… but the process is.
At least in theory.
In reality, it’s easier said than done.
It’s like going to the gym—or even just leaving the house—when you’d rather stay in bed all day.
Simple idea. Not simple to do.
Maybe I just need smaller targets so my ADHD brain doesn’t fly off the edge.
Small Differences in Thinking
One of the thoughts I had while staring at the texture of my ceiling was:
“What’s the difference between a professional creative content creator and me?”
There are a lot of obvious answers—showing up every day, talent, skill, money…
But even putting all of that aside, I keep coming back to process.
What do I mean by that?
In 2026, there’s a difference between a modern artist and someone who just draws something and posts it.
I’ve been able to put together finished pieces over the years—but once I upload something, that’s kind of it. After the initial “hype”… or lack of it… it just dies in the algorithm.
And I move on like it didn’t matter.
Meanwhile, other creators squeeze everything they can out of a single piece.
- They look at what worked, what didn’t, why it performed the way it did.
- They don’t just post something and let it die.
- They build on it.
- They turn it into other things—brush sets, linework, process videos, stickers… whatever makes sense for that piece.
At my stage—if I can even call it a “career”—I could probably be using each piece as a way to study something too. Texture, poses, structure, things I’m not good at yet.
So instead of just finishing something and moving on, it actually feeds into the next thing.
And once they have those pieces—yeah, plural—they can spread them across platforms, put some behind a paywall, or even just keep them in a personal library to reuse later when they need content.
I don’t really do any of that.
I just… post it and leave.
Creativity After Completion
I started thinking about ways my work could actually be reused… not just finished and left behind. Things like reusable heads for hair design, skeletons and base bodies for outfits… even a 2D image could be reused as an asset in a 3D scene.
I’m pretty sure this is what larger studios like DICE, Riot Games, Respawn Entertainment, or Embark Studios are doing anyway.(Apex Legends is basically built on reused assets, by the way.)
Drawings aren’t the only form of visual content that can go into a personal library either. Photos can be pulled for compositions, textures, brushes… all kinds of stuff.
It would be nice to actually have a stash of things that feel like me.
My photos, inspirations, sounds—even random videos—that I can reuse as reference or build something new from later.
Zooming Out
I’ve always felt like I was drifting through life… but that’s probably because I was. The only structure I’ve had has come from external factors. Outside of work, there’s been almost nothing holding me accountable. The only reason I’ve improved at things like Apex Legends or sim racing is that there are immediate consequences for doing poorly.
Real life doesn’t really work like that.
It feels more like playing an action RPG where you’re just randomly assigning skill points in every direction and hoping it works out.
I always thought I’d have things figured out by now.
I don’t.
At thirty-one ☠️ no one’s coming to save me anymore. Once you’re past your mid-twenties, the internships, guidance, and people willing to help you figure things out start to disappear.
And somewhere along the way…
So did my belief that I’d eventually get my life organized and “back on track.”
From Guy Who Makes Music to Music Producer
Similar to what I was attempting with my visual arts, I realized I’d been wasting a lot of potential in my sound library.
I’d make a song or remix every now and then… but that didn’t make me a music producer.
My process was a sloppy mess. Half-finished projects just sat there rotting on my hard drive. And if I did manage to finish something, I probably forgot to upload it everywhere anyway.
If I wanted to stop being a filthy casual when it came to music, I’d have to tear that process down too.
Making a single song can turn into a whole ecosystem—project files, stems, presets, sample packs, visualizers, music videos… all of it.
And yeah, right now that sounds like a mountain.
But knowing how my brain works, I’d probably just sloth my way through it anyway.
I just need to know where I am in each project.
Because coming back to something after a long break feels exactly like loading into an open-world RPG after not playing for months:
- Who am I?
- What am I doing?
- Where am I?
- …wait, why was I doing that again?
Playing games was supposed to be fun.
I ask those same questions about real life all the time.
What Things in My Life Need Structure?
Time Management
Ahh, yes… that thing every company feels like they need to include on job postings.
Right next to “fast-paced environment.”
The nice thing about my life being such an effen mess is that any progress I make now is extremely noticeable.
Like… I’ve actually been making it to my doctor’s appointments since I started putting them on Google Calendar. That alone feels like an achievement.
So now I probably need to start putting other things on there too.
The danger is turning it into some over-engineered system I won’t use. But recurring events, planned dinners, travel dates—basically anything I’m prone to forgetting—should probably live there.
I imagine getting better at time management would let me see further ahead.
Kind of like sim racing, League, or Apex Legends—where you can start thinking a few moves ahead instead of just reacting.
In real life though, every time I try to plan too far ahead, it doesn’t really play out the way I expect.
So maybe the move is to plan closer to where I actually am… instead of trying to plan for a version of life that doesn’t exist yet.
Gold Graph . . . I Mean Income and Asset Management
I swear to God, money just disappears. . .And yeah, part of me thinks if I had more, it wouldn’t…
…but that’s probably not true. I’d just find other ways to make it disappear.
If it’s not keeping my teeth alive—root canals, whatever—then it’s whitening, fixing something else. And cars are basically a black hole for money, especially if I actually want to race or drift one day.
In games like League of Legends or Apex Legends, the economy actually matters.
You’re taught to use your resources efficiently to win. Also… the UI is just better. Real life has terrible UI.
But in real life you really shouldn’t burn through everything you have available . . . whoops
Why can’t I treat life like an open-world RPG? Hording money and resources, like I’m playing boringly efficient and optimizing the challenge out of encounters until. . .
I reach the final boss, I still have a full stack of level 1 health potions because “I might need them later.”
Why can I build ridiculous amounts of wealth in The Sims or SimCity… but not in real life?
I’ve been meaning to actually learn Microsoft Excel, and this is probably a good excuse. To have a visual UI cash flow would help my gamer brain.
What’s coming in?
What’s going out?
Can I itemize these medical expenses on my taxes?
Wait… why wasn’t I taught any of this in school?
Overarching Plan With Goals
I would strongly encourage avoiding my previous place of employment…
Honestly, I should probably go leave an Indeed review.
Despite it being a pretty hostile environment, there were still a few ideas worth taking with me.
One of the things my old boss had us do was write down 101 goals we wanted to accomplish.
Of course, we weren’t on the clock while doing this… but it was still expected to be done.
Despite not getting paid for my time, the document ended up being valuable in a different way.
Looking back, the reason he wanted “us” to improve our lives and hit our financial goals was probably because he thought it would make him more money in the process.
(Sell more cars… you’ll make more money.)
Something about that version of “self-development” always felt a little off.
Even with that in mind—and most likely him just recycling something from a course or a business book—I have to admit the idea itself wasn’t bad.
Having something to aim at actually helped.
The problem was… I didn’t really know what I was aiming at.
Blank Canvas
At first, it was hard to even start.
That same feeling of staring at a blank canvas, notebook, or Word document came back.
So I started small.
Just writing things down.
Small goals, big goals, random things I thought I wanted at the time.
Part of me thought most of it was unrealistic.
The other part wanted to believe in something anyway.
And honestly… it felt good.
Like having a cluster of stars to point my spacecraft toward in the middle of nowhere.
If You Could Have Everything You Wanted?
My “star cluster” looked something like this:
- A workshop of steel and asphalt, where I repair my Subaru, build an Altezza drift car, and eventually track a Nissan 180SX.
- A digital forge for creation—finishing Harvard’s CS50, getting better at DaVinci Resolve, and building indie games using both 2D and 3D animation.
- A stage for resonance, where I grow a YouTube community, perform at music festivals, and build a home studio to share my work.
- A bridge between two homes—eventually owning property in Japan and building an import/export pipeline that connects the things I care about.
- A foundation of intentional living—family meetings, a clean space, and the small peace of a well-made cup of coffee.
It’s basically a 101-point map toward some version of creative and financial independence.
Or at least… that’s the idea.
It might be impossible to hit many of these goals in one lifetime—let alone multiple—but I’m aiming for the moon.
If I miss, catch me in 1000 years with future technology… I’ll be somewhere in space.
Non-Negotiables
I’ve talked about the concept of non-negotiables on my blog before.
A lot of these goals are so big and abstract that my neurodivergent AuDHD brain just… doesn’t act on them.
Unlike Aimlabs or Apex Legends, when you mess up in real life—or in the pursuit of goals—the consequences are delayed.
It can take weeks, months, or even years to realize you missed the mark.
At thirty-one, I’ve got a whole bag full of mistakes, flubs, and outright failures.
I’ve basically built a system of short-term explosions and long-term implosions.
If I were a self-help guru, I’d probably bring up Thomas Edison and his “1000 ways not to build a lightbulb”…
But I’m not.
I’m just tired, broke, and mentally not in the best place.
So maybe this is the point where I actually need to put my head down and build some kind of routine.
Nothing crazy.
Just… survive until the next break in the clouds.
Kobe always said it’s the boring stuff that gets you ahead in life.
…so why can I only focus on the fun things?
Maybe the move is to make the boring stuff less boring.
Or at least make it feel less pointless.
Give it more attention. More intention.
“Attention to detail.”
You know… the thing every job over $100k loves to put in their requirements.
How do I make a daily routine that I don’t hate?
Maybe in the next post I’ll Try?
Process is Only Part of the Problem
I think the major issue with my life can be explained in a South Park Clip. . .
For a mostly offensive, raunchy show, it has the occasional moment of uncomfortable accuracy.
I wouldn’t go to it for life advice, but this bit about “racking disciprine” hits a little too close.
Maybe my life looks the way it does because I rack disciprine.
You can have the best process, equipment, plans, and dreams…
but if there’s no execution, nothing actually happens.
Instead of theorycrafting everything, maybe the answer is just to be more present.
Actually do things.
Get out into the real world, touch some grass, and—
“move, don’t think, use your instincts, and may the—”
…yeah, let’s not finish that sentence. The Walt Disney Company is probably listening.
One thing I’ve always admired about Japanese society is how consistently people show up.
Day in, day out.
Even if some of it is surface-level or performative in corporate settings… people still push through.
They just ganbare their way forward.
Work, hobbies, whatever it is.
Maybe that’s something I need to learn.
Until next time,
Much love 🦥💖🩵
LaidbackMarco
