Tag Archives: creativity

Weekend Recap

15 Apr

Today was, for obvious reasons, kind of a hard day. My thoughts are with everyone in Boston tonight.

This past weekend was really, really nice, especially given the fact that I left the office Friday night basically just filled with dread at the thought of having to return again on Monday (so soon!). Work is definitely on a downward spiral right now, and taking my general morale with it. It’s difficult to keep a positive attitude there these days.

But! This weekend was lovely. Brunch with some lady friends, complete with unlimited mimosas ($9! Who cares if I needed to drink 3 in order to get a buzz. Mimosas are great) and a tasty asparagus, fontina and caramelized onion omelette. (If you put caramelized onion on/in it, I’m sold.)

My friend Cate (who will soon be a published author, cause she’s a big shot fancy pants) has been working on a bunch of short plays featuring “her muse”, Baba Yaga of Russian folklore, and so my friend Michele hosted a reading of Cate’s work at her apartment. A bunch of theater people came, read four of her plays aloud, and then had a lively discussion in front of Cate about the themes that emerged for them, how the plays might work together, and other interesting topics, while Cate took copious notes like a good MFA getting her work critiqued. I know it was a tremendously helpful exercise for Cate. It was honestly much, much more fun than I’d anticipated. I went into it worrying that I’d have nothing of value to contribute, and even at the beginning of the discussion, my mind was basically blank. But then other people started speaking about their impressions and it helped me get the wheels turning for myself, and I wound up making a few contributions to the discussion that even bordered on insightful.

On Sunday night, J and I caught up with some friends from grad school who were in town with the theater department’s BFA showcase. We met for dinner at a restaurant in Little Italy and talked about how, the last time I babysat their daughters, the oldest was three and the youngest was a baby drooling (adorably) on my shoulder. Now they’re seven-going-on-eight and six years old, and presumably the youngest does not drool so much. Which: weird. Kids you used to babysit getting bigger and older is the most tangible proof of time passing that I can think of. Nothing makes it seem like it’s really been 5 years and not, say, a few months, like encountering walking, talking small people who couldn’t walk and talk the last time you saw them.

So there’s my deep thought for the night. Kids: they get older. Woah*.

*And somehow I managed be completely sober and still to write this strange, meandering post.

Avoidance Tactics

6 Mar

Several hours ago, I sat down at my desk in front of my computer. I clicked aimlessly through Pinterest and re-read blog posts I’d starred in my Reader (and saved on Pocket, and oooh! Feedly!) and put on more old episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I also bugged J, who was actually working hard on building a model of the set he designed for Pygmalion, all while I desperately avoided this self-imposed task of writing–creating–a new blog post.

I rearranged my desk, ostensibly to avoid the drip that might materialize during the night since my landlord came to investigate they mysterious stain spreading on our ceiling tile (that’s another story. For now we haven’t found a leak.) and wound up removing the tile above my desk. I stuck my face in Saffron’s face and scratched behind her ears. I stared at my own face in the mirror for way too long, cataloging all my various imperfections. I checked Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook again. I  looked at my knitting in progress (I taught myself a few weeks ago! Go me!), but since crafting is also an act of creation, I can’t very well do THAT. Instead, I consumed.

I want to be creative. I’m pretty sure I am a creative person, actually. I was as a kid. I mean, most kids are, and the theory is that adults are, too, they’ve just learned to suppress their creativity in favor of conformity. I used to draw all the time, and write. I’d trace characters from storybooks and collage them together to create visuals for my own stories. I’ve absolutely retained that magpie tendency, but now I hoard bookmarks in Chrome and starred blog posts in Reader and regular books, too, some of which I don’t actually read because, well…

A few titles in my library. I've read three of these books.

A few titles in my library. I’ve read three of these books.

I’m not sure where my creative aptitude lies, and even if it turns out I have a talent for some creative venture–writing, or maybe design (boy, typing that was scary. Even admitting that I might be interested in such a thing was so very, very scary)–could I have the balls to pursue it? I can pick up a book on a subject I think might interest me, but there are some I’ve had for years without cracking the covers.

I’d rather continue to consume–pins things to my boards and read other people’s blogs and maybe take an online class in coding a website (but avoid the homework! wouldn’t want to actually produce anything!). I watch a ridiculous amount of tv for someone who doesn’t have cable, and I spend hours upon hours in front of computer screens every day, not producing anything, just consuming more content. Numbing, in other words. Avoiding something I may want to do, because even wanting something scares me at this point.

I’ve been reading a lot of Steven Pressfield and Brené Brown lately, and even listening to a podcast of Oprah’s 10 part webinar with Eckhart Tolle for her “Spirit” channel on XM radio, so I KNOW what this is. Resistance. Fear of vulnerability. It’s “me” struggling against my “self”, if you’re into Tolle’s teachings.

Even these journals are mostly blank!

Even these journals are mostly blank!

But knowing what this is doesn’t make sitting down to do the work less scary, especially since I don’t have a defined end goal. I don’t know what I want out of this blog. I don’t really even know what I want out of this life. I certainly don’t know what I want out of my career. So why am I even doing this?

I guess to try and figure it out. To find my voice, or talent, or develop a passion for one of the things that right now, I’m only curious about and deathly afraid of actually saying out loud that I might want to pursue.

Thanks for stopping by today, and I apologize if this post is a bit of a downer. I’m still trying to figure out a lot of things, especially how to live with all this confusion.