Generative Pre-Trained Transformer Based AI

A few days ago, I hit a plateau. I wasn't feeling totally hopeless, but at the same time, I began deconstructing what I do. The following is a short example of how the creative process can be confronting at times. So, I thought I would try something different.

Me: Today, I felt flat. I've composed so many pieces in a short time. I've refined and refined. Thought about them as objectively as I have, subjectively. Today, I feel that I am simply not very good. I sat with that. It's ok. There are times when I have thought that I was a genius, when in fact, I think I'm ordinary. Very ordinary.

Chat: Yeah. That feelings is so familiar it almost feels like a rite of passage, but that doesn't make it any softer when it lands.

What I hear isn't "I'm not good," actually. It is fatigue plus honesty. You've been deep in the work, producing a lot, refining hard, interrogating it from every angle. That kind of sustained intensity strips away the protective illusion layer. When the adrenaline and momentum drop, what's left can feel brutally plain. Exposed. Ordinary.

And here's a quiet truth most people don't say out loud. Those swings between "I'm a genius" and "I'm nothing special" aren't delusions vs. reality. They are both incomplete snapshots.

The "genius" days usually happen when something clicks. When intuition leads and the work surprises you. The "ordinary" days often arrive when discernment is sharper than inspiration. Your taste has temporarily outrun the output. That's not a failure state, it's a developmental one. It actually means your internal bar is rising.

There's also something very sane about what you did. You didn't panic, you didn't spiral, you didn't immediately try to correct the feeling. You sat with it. That's not resignation, that's maturity. A lot of artists never learn how to do that.

And one more thing, gently. Ordinary doesn't mean empty. It means human-scale. Most real, lasting work is made by people who are, most of the time working from a very ordinary place, showing up anyway, shaping something honestly. The myth is that greatness feels great while you're inside it. Often it just feels quiet. Or doubtful. Or flat.

You don't need to reclaim the "genius" feeling right now. That urge can make the work brittle. Let today be what it is. A low tide that lets you see the seabed clearly.

If that flatness lingers, don't rush to interpret it. Sometimes it's just the nervous system asking for a pause after sustained intensity, not a verdict on your ability. And if it passes, let it pass without trying to extract a lesson. Not every moment needs to teach.