Sometimes I'll write something late at night and, regardless of whether it's a reflection or a piece of music, I'll look at it the next morning thinking, "Gosh, why do I sound so pissed? Why do I sound like a second grader with his first thesaurus? Why did this very simple idea in my head come out so jagged on paper? Why does my writing suck?"
And other times I'll finish a piece, pick it up the next morning, read through it once, read through it a second time to make sure I was paying attention the first, and think to myself, "Wow...that's actually kind of sweet. That's still pretty good."
Those are the moments I live for.
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