I know it’s normal for creativity to have it’s ebbs and flows, highs and lows. But sometimes I feel like I have literally said all that needs to be said, photographed all that needs to be photographed, folded all that ever needs to be folded (okay, that’s a flat out lie, folding unfortunately is never done).
I have felt my creativity draining over the past few weeks. Maybe it’s the impending rush of the holiday season, leaving me focused on getting out of the next month alive, sane and not broke. Perhaps it’s the three year old who is determined to give up napping forever and always wants to wear the least convenient shoes wherever we are going. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. Beating myself up because that whole nanowrimo thing? Yeah it didn’t happen, in kind of a major way. Like one week in, I said pfft – never mind, I’m done. Or really just, maybe I don’t want to be forced to write every day even when I have nothing to write, even when it’s garbage. Maybe I will write in a month that is not November just once instead of trying to stockpile my creativity all year only to have it horrendously backfire on me. Excuses, I know.
It’s been leaking into other areas, too, though. Like photography – I’ve been phoning it in where my 365 project is concerned, making copious use of “filler photos” and taking lots of random cell phone snapshots just cause. And sometimes I want to force myself not to photograph things but rather to experience them. To ignore that whisper in my brain that says if there is no picture, it didn’t really happen. I don’t need proof of my happiness to be happy. So sometimes I think maybe it is more important to take photographs when they count, when they matter, when you are inspired. And not just because it’s 9:30 at night and you haven’t taken a picture that day. Maybe I won’t need 80 pictures of coffee when all is said and done.
And of course, there is this blog. Sometimes I have my moments, where I say something epic and even though nobody comments, I love the post and feel inspired. I can’t be upset by the lack of comments, I’m a frequent blog stalker, too. Always reading, never commenting. And I’ve dropped off a lot of the meme / carnival band wagons in the search of quality over quantity, ignoring the fact that my quality is only so so most weeks. Many weeks go by with just an obligatory daybook post, a wordless Wednesday or Thursday and maybe a repetitive rehash about what I’m reading that month. And it kind of makes this feel like a wasted opportunity. I’ve given myself this platform to say something, to document my life and explore my creativity and say something. Am I wasting this space or is this just a realistic representative of where my life is right now, just sort of existing. Everything is fine and thus there isn’t much to say except perhaps another obligatory complaint about the lack of nap times in my life.
So what am I trying to say? I have no idea, and that’s kind of the point.