You know, I go to school with a guy who doesn't say much about his situation, other than that he did a show which garnered him tremendous attention and demand. He's been presented photographic opportunities so huge that they've left him reeling for a week. He has a chance to rocket to success. He has so much work he has to turn down jobs that would make everybody elses' heads spin.

And then I'm out there cold calling, offering my services for absolutely free, and am barely getting a nibble. See, I know I'm good. I know I'm damn good at what I do. That's not where my insecurities lie. It isn't a matter of whether I'm good or not. No, the self-doubt creeps in when I start questioning whether I'm good enough.

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I refuse to believe that I'm not.

A few short months ago, I'd have tried to drown the issue in alcohol, only to have it just fester and decay from self doubt into a certain shame and loathing until I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror. Sober, it has nothing to stick to. It's like a spider caught in the bathtub, trying desperately to climb up the smooth sides but getting nowhere.

To this very moment, beer still doesn't appeal to me at all, but I'm dying for a nice whiskey and coke right now. One of these days, maybe, but under circumstances like this I can just about guarantee I'd take it to a dark place.

No, thanks.