i want to tap into that creative power, the stuff that poetry, theory and good nicknames are made of, the ability to distill a thing to its very essence and create a metaphor which taps into popular consciousness, crafting something at once novel and shared.
it’s not hard for me to understand the source of my restlessness and dissatisfaction (i was going to say “depression” but i really don’t want to provoke any “get help!” comments). i did not know that the lack of a creative, intellectual environment could lead to such debilitating forms of psychic malnutrition.
i have a craving to write, to do, to make something… and yet life would bog you down in the minutiae of making a living (funny how they call it making a living), in the routine of preparing for work, going to work, working or pretending to do so, returning home from work to prepare for work again. metro, boulot, dodo or ZR, wuk, sleep- to keep things local.
i have not lost my sense of humour. i will not go out and walk under a bus. so please, well-meaning readers there is no need to recommend your favourite brand of selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors or that i see a psychiatrist.
in times like these all i really need is a little poetry. (and a way to really make a living!)
any suggestions?
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find some time, just a little bit to get away from the minutiae of live and use that time to do write or do whatever you want to do that will make you happy. sometimes its about getting pleasure from the small things cause at certain points life doesnt leave time for the big ideas sadly.
you’re right…but i can’t help but mope sometimes. i just need to do something!
I do not have any suggestions, nonetheless, I can empathise with everything that you have said.JDID’s suggestion is indeed apropos,you may want to try or explore his method.RESPECT!
thanks for stopping by, Esteban!
When I find the way to REALLY make a living I promise to share. Til then the only advice I can truly offer is to take some time for yourself at least once a week and do something relaxing. I have my Sundays on the beach under a shady tree with a couple of glasses of wine and the little one building sandcastles. No one and nothing comes between me and my Sundays. I don’t even cook anymore, we eat fast food on Sundays.
At first the act of relaxing is so foreign that you are apt to feel restless and bored, but tough it out the first couple of times and the boredom turns to inward reflection and.. yes… a re-awakening of the creative senses! Yay! [Or you can come to Greenz and hang out with me on Sundays
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