you're supposed to be excited to be living, or something

Jack London shares my birthday, although he was born in 1876. Quite a long time ago. He has written a semi-autobiographical novel called Martin Eden, which tells the story of a young man consumed with the desire to become an artist. It's a sad story, I'm told. Here is a more upbeat poem of his ("credo" = "what I believe"):

CREDO

I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark
should burn out in a brilliant blaze
than it should be stifled by dry-rot.

I would rather be a superb meteor
every atom of me in magnificent glow
than a sleepy and permanent planet.

The function of man is to live
not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.