My friend Dave, a few months ago, he asked me, “So what are you excited about right now?” And I couldn’t give him a good answer. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just don’t know.”

I relayed the question to my friend Curt, and he shrugged it off, and said, “That just means you’re looking.”

A few weeks later, I found it. I found the thing to get excited about. The thing to work on.

I was so incredibly excited about the thing I was working on, because it felt completely, 100% my own, coming to me fast, as if it already existed. As if it had always existed. I had an energy, a borderline mania, working on it. All of my parts were in alignment. It felt like I had something that I needed years ago that I think other people need, too. I worked for a solid month, and I came up with the thing, and I delivered the first version of it, and it worked. It was right. It did exactly what I wanted it to do.

And then… I let myself be talked out of working on my vision of the thing into working on something else that seemed only slightly different, but wrong. It was as if, overnight, all my energy, all of my excitement, had been sucked out of me. And I struggled for a week, trying to see the thing that I was supposed to work on. And I couldn’t see it.

This morning I walked past the bomb site and something in me snapped. What the hell am I doing? I asked my wife. She said, “You’ve let yourself be talked out of working on what you know you’re supposed to be working on.”

Now I’m back. And I can see it. And I can see a way of working on it, of making it exist, and putting it out into the world.

And nobody’s going to talk me out of it.

This post was a tantrum. (We all have them sometimes. Forgive me.)