Icarus, Bologna, and the Art of Finally Beginning

Typing My Way Out of Procrastination

I’ve always dreamed of becoming a writer. But why did it take me so long to actually start? Why does it always take me forever to do anything?

I know I’m becoming a professional now. Maybe that’s not the right word. I’m getting there. Graduating from my Masters, I feel it – it’s not just about age, it’s about experiences. I feel confident that I can deliver solutions and high-quality work to future clients.

But, there’s this other thing: perfectionism. I’ve realized it’s not a positive trait to have. I spend forever making sure that I’m fully prepared before I even begin. But here’s the thing: life doesn’t work like that. Often, it’s better to just fake it ‘til you make it.

The one area where I don’t overthink and get lost in preparations is when it comes to traveling. But for anything else, I feel the need to be fully equipped. It’s like I need everything to align before I take the first step.

For example, with writing, I’m scared of making grammar mistakes. The fear of people thinking I’m stupid is real. It’s the same fear that comes with performing any form of art – that feeling of being judged. I worry that my vocabulary and writing style are too basic.

There was a moment in Bologna when I read a book that changed my perspective on a lot of things. I felt like it was written just for me. I’ve felt this many times before, not out of ego, but because I tend to romanticize my life and believe books show up just when I need them.

That trip to Bologna changed me, too. It was one of those rare experiences that left me in awe, and I will forever cherish those days. I fell in love with Bologna, and even more, I fell in love with myself in that city.

The book was The Icarus Deception, a manifesto for all artists, and I mean everyone. It argues that life itself is art. The way we live, speak, write, lead – it’s all art. And life begins when we embrace our own form of it.

It taught me that writing, like any art, gets better with practice. You only improve by doing. So I started to write more. I have so much to say. So many things to share.

But, I still had these small hurdles. For example, I needed a website that was easy to navigate. Complicated platforms just made me want to quit before I even started.

For the longest time, I blamed my lack of consistency on the fact that my best ideas would come to me when I was biking or doing something else, and I could never remember them later. I tried recording myself in the moment, but the drafts never went anywhere.

I even tried writing before bed, but exhaustion always got the best of me. My giant laptop just felt like a chore.

So, many excuses. Many delays. But in the end, I feel kind of stupid for not starting earlier.

All I needed was a boost of confidence built over 10 years, and a tablet with a new keyboard that I bought yesterday. Since then, I haven’t stopped writing.

I’m being ironic about the confidence part – I really wish I had started earlier and stuck to it. Because consistency is the key to everything.

I’ve spent so much of my life waiting to be in the “right” place before I could be consistent. Before I could pursue my dreams and hone real skills, like blogging. There’s a long list of things I still want to achieve, and they’ve been quietly pressuring me every day.

I guess by “right place,” I mean maturity. Understanding a bit more about who I am and what I want.

For the first time, I feel like I’ve reached that place. I have the confidence, the motivation, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the experiences to back it all up. Oh, and a keyboard.

We all have insecurities. We all struggle. We all dream of doing things, but we don’t always do them.

But we should. Do them. Do them now, do them later. Do them unprepared, or prepared – it doesn’t matter. Just do them. Fail. Try again.

Maybe this was just my journey. I spent a lot of time blaming myself for not starting earlier, but in hindsight, it doesn’t serve me. Maybe I didn’t have anything meaningful to say before, or maybe I was too young and impulsive. Maybe I just needed to trust that I’d get here in my own time.

I’ve thought about writing every single day. Sometimes I’d start, but then stop, feeling frustrated by my lack of consistency. But now, I’ve done it. And I feel reborn.

This is just the beginning. And I’m excited for what comes next.