Write. I scheduled time to do it and just haven’t had much inspiration lately. The creativity stopped flowing for a bit and I’m frustrated by it. I had so many ideas in my head for my book. Now just thinking about the term Butch and all that’s associated with it seems to be difficult for me to do. The issues that I normally face I’ve been avoiding. I can find ten million other things to do other than sit down and write, like find a second part-time job, clean, weed the garden or do laundry. There are also lots of blogs I like to read so I get on the computer and spend time looking at them. I haven’t been reading many books lately so I went to the library and checked out a book about a guy who left the legal profession to be a writer. I’m hoping it will jump start my process. Maybe reading about someone else doing what I did will motivate me to write about my own experience.
Daily writing has fallen to the wayside again, although I am doing more of it lately. So, maybe I’m just being hard on myself. Maybe I just don’t have much to say lately. The state of the world as of late has had me quite speechless, to be honest. I don’t even know what to say about all that’s happening.
Then there’s the fact that my brain has come back around to the financial struggle. I think that when I’m in this space I am not as creative. Well, I know that I’m not as creative because this is the side of me that stuffed away the creative Wendi. I’m allowing myself to get distracted a lot lately.
Yesterday I went to a ‘job interview’. I put that in quotations because I believe it was a staffing agency just getting me on their roles. I answered an ad on craigslist.org for a part-time accounting assistant for a local farmers market. Yes. I did say ‘accounting’. But, I figured that if it was for something that I believe in then it may not be all that bad. So I sent them my resume’. The next day I received a phone call from a woman at the agency that placed the ad. When she told me she was from a staffing agency I lost any excitement about it. Reluctantly, I made the appointment for the ‘interview’ and went in to their office yesterday. The ‘interview’ consisted of me filling out an application and a few other forms then answering your basic ‘interview’ questions. The woman who interviewed me looked annoyed and didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me. I was dressed up in my new black Dickies pants, a collard shirt and a sweater over it. Plus, I had my Doc Marten’s on. I looked like an accountant. A male accountant. I got the feeling that she didn’t know what to do with that. I think that I was equally annoyed that I got sucked into their trap, put on accountant clothes, paid for parking downtown and took the time to stop at Kinkos to print off a hard copy of my resume’ all for getting on their roles and quite possibly not hearing from them again. Grumble, grumble, grumble.
Now I find myself thinking of ways to sell my photos again. From my cards and prints online at the Etsy shop to just the cards at artist markets. I figure cards would sell better then prints because they have a practical use. Although, that brings me to another topic that’s been on my mind quite a bit lately. Society’s way of communicating in this day and age. Or, rather, indirectly communicating.
All we get are bits and pieces of each others lives these days. Facebook status updates, text messages, Tweets and other social media sites dwindle those bits down to 140 characters or less. We keep track of each other through Facebook and Twitter updates. Blogs have taken the place of pen pals. Remember pen pals?
The days of handwritten letters and long stories of what's happening in our lives have fallen to the wayside. At least it has in my experience. I can't remember when I last received a letter in the mail. An actual letter that someone took the time to sit down and write with me in their thoughts. I have to admit, I'm guilty of it myself. I haven't written a letter in I don't know how long. But, remember how exciting it was to get them in the mail?
Today’s ease of communication and our increased need for security has us disconnected even more so. You'd think with the ease of communication it would do the opposite, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I want to reconnect. Not just with the Earth and the things around me but with the people in my life, as well. I'm thinking that perhaps by writing letters to people in my life I might be able to jump start the process of writing.
Maybe someone will answer one of my letters and I’ll be excited to get mail again, too.