All Things Enjoyable

When I was in high school I developed two stories that were intended to be my magnum opus when I was ready to tackle them and full of enough smarts to make them good. Despite trying to get good grades, most of my time was spent on the computer or (since my three siblings and I shared one computer with internet) in notebooks fleshing out all the details of these stories. I locked myself out of my home on Sunday and rather than breaking in or bothering my landlady at home, I went to spend the night at my parents' house, where rummaging revealed two notebooks/collections of paper that made up my life in high school. I never fully appreciated how much time I spent developing these stories that I continue to draw upon as part of my personal mythology, but somehow it really struck me when I briefly flipped through them. It dawned on me that I'm not that passionate anymore. I have nothing to escape from, thus, I don't care if I'm working on developing ideas so much. These stories were my spare time. I remember working on them after school until karate and then after karate late into the night. I would wake up and write. Write between periods. Think about what I would write while in class, and then write about it. But suddenly, I am at a point in my life where there is nothing that pressing to my day-to-day life. I work jobs for money, but I really like these jobs. Do I need to hate my life to be productive? I have everything I want and need right now, so maybe I'm just bored. Somehow, I've only been developing art when I have to, not when I want to. That's not right.
Part of me wants to see these old stories through, just for completion sake. Maybe that's what I need: something that is an escape from my actual responsibilities.