The creative process

After spending a week exploring in the vast outdoors, this snowed in situation back at home has made me antsy and anxious. I'm fidgeting more than usual.

I have, however, been a starving, ravenous reader, greedily taking over our couch space to lounge and eat up everything on psychology, philosophy, the arts, and the creative process. 

Most of all, the creative process, re-reading old titles from my library -- How To Think Like Leonardo da Vinci; The Creative Habit -- and exploring new ones via zee Interwebs -- Creative Unblock.

I still can't believe I'm two days away from being a full-time writer and editor. I'd love to go back to undergrad and tell my Argumentative Writing professor, "Look! Look! I'm a writer now and I'm not poor!" I don't even remember his name, just what he told me, even after all these years.

"You could be a writer, you know -- if you don't mind being poor."

Part of me is so excited and thrilled, allowing myself to savor this "I made it! I made it!" feeling after balancing jobs that did not nurture me emotionally, schooling and a graduate thesis that seemed never-ending, freelancing and blogging, for so, so long. 

But part of me is also afraid. Afraid that I'm not talented enough; not smart enough; not brilliant enough. Never enough. So I've been looking up the lives and thoughts of writers, past and present, long before they became writers. And it's reassuring to see that we all struggle with these feelings. 

Even the best of us.

It doesn't work that way

It bugs me when people think I just woke up like this.

No, bitch. I hustled my ass off while you sat on your fat one, being entitled, expecting to be spoonfed.

Grow up.

That person you can't shake

Shake it off. 

I'm trying to. 

Earlier last year, I let someone into my life and more recently just got tired and fed up and annoyed with them. Except I had no idea I felt that way, at the time. So I took the easy way out and simply said, I need space. It's not you. It's me.

And yet it really was you. Not me. And by the time I let you know that, it came across more unkind than intended. 

The sad part was that I didn't even care. 

Someone will always have something to say

And sometimes the best thing to do in response is to say nothing at all.