Don't recognise my own work

Ever since I can remember, I would examine things done in the past and often find them to be childish and silly.

This used to tell me that I was growing as a person and that I would someday get there.

Problem is that I am not young anymore and it still happens regularly. I examine my actions and reactions of yesterday and last week and often can't believe how silly I was.

My work spans decades, and when I look at the stuff I created from the past its interesting how usually I find it rather dull or stupid.

Occasionally, I find the work to be stunning. I don't recognize the details, and the only thing that tells me it's my work is that its where I keep all my stuff.

It's almost as if some magical elf did the work in my sleep and passed it off as mine.

It's at times like these that I find myself reading it, and appreciating it, as a consumer would.

All I am left with is a vague recollection, of having done the work, but no more.

It would seem that the muse when it takes me is a different person who has a mind of her own.

When I, do stuff it's, ok, when she does the work, its extraordinary, and people think it's me.

The code I write is usually absolute grunt work. Boring twaddle, but every now and then when I look back, I get glimpses of what it must be to be really good, and I imagine what it would be like to be like that, all the time.

Like superman with the wind in his back.

Then I read the next bit and I realise that it was just a momentary fleeting bit of inspiration and I am all foggy and muddle headed again.

It's like the beautiful view you get of the sky when the clouds part and everything is, just so. Then the curtains close again and the moment is lost forever. In gloom.

M Parak 2017..