Okay. I know. It’s inexcusable. And I, therefore, have no excuse. But tonight, as I sat on the couch watching meaningless TV and pretending that if I put ice cubes in my wine it only counts as half a glass, I thought... huh. Maybe I should do something even the teensy tiniest bit creative, no? Crazy thought. But just maybe. Maybe. Particularly since I was supposed to spend the evening with my beloved writers’ group, and my mass amounts of wussiness kept me from driving the snowy streets back to Dayton for the evening, just maybe I could use the designated time to actually do what it was designated for, and create something.
Here’s the problem.
I’m not creative.
Seriously. Every ounce of any creative energy I might’ve ever possessed seems to have seeped out of me. I don’t even know if I can call it writer’s block – it’s more like everything block. The problem? I sold out. Yes, I sold my soul to the man, and all for a CRV. And an apartment all to myself, decked out in Ikea’s finest offerings and filled with absolutely no one but me. I can’t lie, people, I think it may have been worth it. But now I spend my days writing and editing boring stuff for other people (whom I like very, very much, I do have to say)(well, no, I don’t have to say, but I am saying it, because I actually really mean it) and when I get home at the end of a very long, very very cold day, I can’t find what it takes to be an artist. I can find what it takes to heat up a Lean Cuisine and crack a Stella, but that’s as far as I get. And also, Lean Cuisine my ass, because I’m getting fat. Like, call me Pudgy McFatterson fat. It can’t be impossible to work and not get fat, right? Right?
Help me. You're my only hope. I know there are artistic, busy, skinny employed people who read this, who have found a way to get shit done and still be happily creative. Unless you all got tired of waiting for me to come back and found other, more interesting (read: actually written) blogs to follow. What’s the key?
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5 comments:
Insert finger and purge. It's the only way...
And I'm nearly 100% positive that you hate me.
All the people I know who work a lot and are what I consider "skinny" (opposed to me, who I'd probably call "healthy", on a good day, and a slew of meaner things on a bad day) seem to focus their attention on two things, 1) working, and 2) working out. They honestly do not let anything get in their way of working out. They are not social recluses, but if you ask them on the day of to meet for happy hour, they will say "Sure! I'll meet you after my 90 minute Core Power Yoga class/my 6 mile run/a session with my personal trainer!" whereas I would say "I'll be there at 5:10 after I hit the ATM."
I noticed this a couple years ago but still haven't really learned my lesson.
I don't care if you get fat, as long as you only get fat in that special area. Mmmmmmm....
Trish my dear, you hear me hacking up a lung all day -- it's me trying to burn calories!
Kristen, 5:10? What takes you so long?! (Hmm... I see your point...)
Trey, from your lips to God's ears.
Well, there's usually a line at the ATM thanks to all the other people skipping their workouts to go to happy hour. :)
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