Frustration comes from different sources, too. It can come from knowing that you'd be better off with different equipment that you don't want to buy; it can come from knowing that your skill in some specific area is letting you down, there's so much on the technical list that can ruin it for you.
But that's open to alteration: you can stump up for the equipment, or go for lessons in technical methods.
What you can't do, is spring-clean your mind. The frustration that comes with basic indecision is very real: what about the situation when you think you want to do something (I mean in the sense of genres), and when you begin, you find yourself distracted by something else? Should you waste the new and present urge in order to follow through on the original idea, or stake everything on the latest one? Should you even care, and perhaps just fly on the edge of now? (I speak from the amateur standpoint.) I find that I set out, sometimes, with an open mind and come home without having switched on the camera. Is this a failure or simply an appreciation of the fact that inspěration isn't always holding your hand? I've heard people discount inspiration as being something unreal, that you can always go shoot something wonderful if you have the mind so to do. I don't think so. Yes, you can always shoot a technically competent image, obviously enough, but that's not the point, is it?
Maybe the trouble stems from the very idea of genre: what do I do, what am I good at, why should I do something different and perhaps not as well? Do we have to shake it: do whatever we see and think works? Be the photographic magpie?
I spent a few hours in the island's capital last week - after a very long time away from it - and found it quite photographically stimulating. But, but... too much stuff around, offering itself up to you for the taking. So, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and not really enough of anything in particular. From some colourful walls, a few fountains, a couple of people shots; images through windows catching fleeting sketches of life within and without... Should I go back, it will not be like that (I think, now!) again: I'll stand in a specific street, concentrate on a small selection of windows where the reflections are interesting and just wait, like a fisherman. But without a canvas stool. I think it would be far more productive. Save on shoes, too.
But hey, am I not straight back into genre?