The Not-So-Good Bits

I've been putting off writing this post for a while now, mainly because people don't like to blog about the darker times of their lives.  Or maybe they do, if they're into that kind if thing.  Admittedly, I'm not, but this blog is for posting about my life and all of its ups and downs, not just when I have good things to talk about.


The past two and a half years have been rough to say the least.  I was going to describe them as being "a nightmare of the most fantastic kind," but there's been good points.  Times when I've felt like somebody, more than a pale shell that can magically talk and make food.  Times when I actually possessed some creative ability and felt feelings like I used to.


Creatively, I'm dead, or very close to it.  I no longer derive any kind of inspiration or initiative from anything, or so it seems.  This is disturbing.  I make stuff because it's what I do, and I can't.  No amount of artistic coaching can seem to lance the horrific boil that's holding back all of my ideas and creativity.  I supposed that line was pretty creative, but it's been in my head for quite a long time now, so it doesn't count.  People tell me to just do this or just do that.  It's like watering a dead plant; nothing's coming back.  It's sad seeing the heaps of polymer clay on my desk.  I've tried my best for almost two months now to make something, and all that's come from it is a little pendant with rainbow flowers on it.  And it gets uglier the more I look at it.


My surroundings for the most part have not been, as Carl Sagan would put it, benign or malevolent.  Merely indifferent.  I don't know how much of that statement is true, seeing that the weather's been nice.  People in public are nice.  My employers, coworkers, and customers are always telling me what a good job I'm going, despite the fact I feel like an out-of-place, quiet little mouse.  I trust their judgement more than I trust my own, however, so I'll take their word for it.


I would say I'm just constantly trying to make it through the week or month or whatever, but I have no idea what I'm working towards.  I've basically given up on everything and said to life, "Fine, do what you will.  Jerk me whichever way you need to."  I'm not suicidal and this isn't some kind of weird death post (Sylvia Plath Blog?  Splog?).  I just felt the need to be more honest with my readers, not just post when I'm feeling good and motivated.  Ever notice how little I actually update this thing, as opposed to how much I should?  Yeah.


I guess this is all just a healing process, or a toughening-up process.  Maybe this will only make my spirit and creativity stronger.  Maybe one day I will wake up and actually have a spark of motivation or inspiration or just something that isn't along the (seemingly constant) lines of food and sleep.