Well hello there dear reader(s), happy Sunday to you, I come to you after a fairly good night’s sleep and a somewhat unproductive dance with YouTube, as I’ve been experiencing a creative block lately. I’m wondering if I am going to be facing some trouble with my creative energy as my healing process moves along; I have noticed that after my episodes/incidents, there comes vast creative output then it peters out, which can be sorta frustrating. I’m concerned that maybe my triptych might not be completed in time for my art show, and that disappoints me greatly. I don’t want to display anything that might not be worthy for people to see—I would hate to be the laughingstock of my neighborhood, that would be most embarrassing to be sure.
Of all the music I heard this morning, I think I liked “Our House” by Madness the best. It took me awhile to select it, I’m just not as sharp as I have been, and I’m not sure why I seem to be lagging behind. I’ve felt slowed down in particular for the past three days, and I think this is signaling that my recovery from the Fall’s incident is moving forward with time. I’d hate to think that my art might be sacrificed—I’m going to mom’s this afternoon to work on some things, just to see if the creative tap has indeed been turned off, which would be devastating. I’m wondering if the medication has finally got a firm grip, or if maybe the sinister minds at Google have been doing a little Who’s Zooming Who, thinking they might best me at my efforts to do a little harmless courting of their AI. Ah, what’s going on, who’s pursuing what agenda now, might the Supreme Court be up to something, or might some Columbus detective have joined in our Safety Dance? Only Time Will Tell.
Honestly, I feel as if someone or something is trying to thwart my creativity, and it’s kinda annoying me. I don’t feel that freedom I had when I was working alone on my porch in 2004, acrylic paint everywhere and multiple canvases scattered all over the place. I could work at a somewhat frenzied pace, spewing out all my ideas and it felt very freeing. Today, I’m limited to mom’s painstakingly neat house, everything somewhat neatly arranged on her dining room table, it’s so orderly and frankly maybe that’s what is driving me nuts. All my alley pickings are arranged in a pile and my “canvases” are limited. What artist can work with such restrictions? I’m feeling a need for a Rebel Yell.
Yes, I’m feeling constrained, like someone has me laced up in a tight corset. Or maybe it’s a straitjacket. Oh readers, am I just in some vast outpatient center, consisting of my house, Broad Street, and mom’s place, with a few restaurants and Nationwide Arena thrown in as “therapeutic activities” to make the time go by faster? That’s kinda what it feels like today. Or maybe everyone else is crazy, I’m the sane one, me with my extra-sensory perception arising from some pretty jarring stuff I encountered on Wastebook. Am I to be in this state forever? Cue up Seal’s “Crazy.”
Yes, something is interfering with my creative output, and it kicked in three days ago. I can’t put my finger on it, but I definitely notice a change. It’s similar to when I would suddenly wake up one day and I would be out of psychosis. I would grab Michael and say, “Honey, it’s over.” I can’t explain it better than that, it’s just an abrupt ending, and then a beginning of some new chapter in your odyssey. So with this current situation, I was not in psychosis, rather something else, and I’m kinda sad that maybe it’s gone(?) or maybe it’s not. Guess the Puppet Master has come out of the basement and is currently in transit somewhere, so our formerly scheduled programming has been interrupted for the time being. Oh well, I shall have to entertain myself if YouTube won’t cooperate.
These are just some random thoughts I’m having this morning, probably don’t make sense to anybody but me. Such is the frustration associated with a creative block. Or the problems that arise when someone (or something) tries to control you. Hopefully I can create something meaningful today? Fingers crossed the spark isn’t gone.
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