What's Wrong?

I have no hobbies. Some people play musical instruments, others follow or even play sports. Then there are those who collect things like figurines, stamps, coins. I don't think I'm that different than any of the countless others that have full time jobs and commute to work. But there in lies the problem. I'm not passionate about anything. I like clothes, shopping, magazines, music, dancing, art, performances, architecture, design, video, film. So I guess I like media?! I appreciate the way a tailored suit jacket feels on my arm hole. The hair on my arm stands on end and I get goose bumps when I hear a great song. I've teared up at concerts when lighting and music and performance gel together. I love the feeling of dancing to a favourite song. But does that count? Who's counting? I have an artistic leaning and am bothered with my role as a consumer. I guess that's what's wrong. This restless feeling comes from my consuming. When I look back at the last 10 years of my life I have loyally consumed and although I have felt the yearnings of creating, I have sat back and allowed time to pass as others have influenced how I experience my world. I haven't painted anything in years, nor have I coreographed anything. I haven't drawn in months. I had a lot of trouble writing because my laziness has even atrophied my creative muscle. I drove around in circles today because I knew that if I stopped at the mall I would of bought a shirt. If I stopped at the bookstore I would have bought a magazine. If I stopped at Target who knows what I would have come home with.