3 or 4 times a week, I open up the familiar MySpace blog editor to post a new blog. Most of the time I maybe get as far as a Subject, but other times I just end up staring at an empty editing box.
No words come to mind. But they’re there. Hiding in the shadows.
I often think to myself, “What went wrong? How did the girl that wanted to write plays & stories end up staring at a blank box unable to write a blog that expresses something as mundane what’s going on lately in her life or how she feels about things or even the simplest topic ever – what’s annoying her?” What happened to the creativity that I thought was endless, that seemed to express itself in every project I did, professional or personal. What happened to the crafty girl that embroidered and sewed & made stuff instead of buying it because it was more personal?
Maybe that creativity had a shelf life. Good for 22 years.
Maybe that creativity is reserved for single women who put their frustration at not having a mate into the creativity. Marriage is the kiss of death.
Most likely, I’ve decided, adulthood sucks creativity into it’s grasp and holds it hostage. Priorities go from taking photos & writing stories to taking out the trash & writing checks for the bills. I wake up in the morning and start getting ready for work, thinking about what I have to remember to do that day instead of brainstorming characters, plots, and scenes I dreamt about.
It’s not gone, by any means. It’s just locked away in a small box. A million things are piled on top of it, like bills, and debts, and annoying coworkers, and car problems that need fixed. Brainstorming isn’t about writing, it’s about how to get new customers at work. It’s about what to make for dinner that will make the husband happy, not about where I’ll hang my latest cross stitch project.
This is where nostalgia kicks in. We sit around and say we long for the days where we just went to class and turned in assignments and at the end of the semester you moved on with a clean break from the stress of that term with a fresh outlook on the next. What we really miss is the creativity that flowed those days and the pleasure of having so little weighing you down that you had the energy and brain space to let the creativity out of the box and play.
Is this why retirees find creative outlets again in painting and photography and the leisurely articles of Reader’s Digest? The weight of work and children and 20-50 something angst is gone from their shoulders. Fewer things clutter their brain, and just when they thought it was gone… they find a little locked box. They can’t remember what’s in it, so they look around for the key and finally open it. Out pours decades of creativity that’s been torturously kept hidden… pours into words on a page, paint on a canvas, colors on film. It’s been so long since they knew they had creativity that retirees aren’t even sure what to call it…so they say they’ve taken up writing to keep themselves busy now that they don’t work. And it takes awhile for them to switch out of the busy work mode into the gentle creativity mode.
When was the last time you heard a retiree long for the days of college & the ease of it? I can’t think of a time I’ve ever heard this.
There are those that are creative in everything they do and at every age. I want to know their secret. Is it “doing what you love” for a living? Those “creative types” that are the envy of every 9-5 desk jockey… the “creative type” that I always wanted to be instead of this desk jockey that I never wanted. I’m not unhappy with my job per se. I guess it’s more of a general dissatisfaction. Don’t get me wrong, of all the places I could be or careers I could have at the moment, I really am digging this affiliate, or performance, marketing thing. And in my own way it is creative and working hard at it is reaching closer and closer to that goal of being more “creative type” and less desk jockey… but sometimes it’s hard to see that shining sphere of light at the end of a long, dark, mildewy tunnel.
