Wednesday, December 04, 2013
Every artistic how-to and every piece of advice from artists anywhere talks about how inspiration is not the key to success; perspiration has a little something to do with it too. And that grit is far more important than a notion of artistic sensibility.
Which is great. But when you’re feeling particularly uninspired, as I have been of late, you begin to question not only your ability to be inspired - but your ability full stop. Which is a level of heartbreak reserved only for those that put their life in such intangible things as words.
I’m not sure if my inspiration has been lost or simply misplaced. Perhaps it got sideswiped by those dastardly exams I had to sit last week, that seemingly wiped me of any thoughts outside of is the answer a, b or c. Maybe I should look for it outside blowing in the wind, under my car or in the dirty washing.
Maybe I’ll find it at the end of this sentence...
Nope, not there.
I considered making up one of those lost posters; but I’m not sure how to accurately describe something so indescribable. I can’t tell you what colour hair my inspiration has, or if it’s tall or short. I can’t tell you if my inspiration has an accent (if it did I’m sure it'd be Scottish), or what it was wearing the last time I saw it. I can’t tell you its name, or where it likes to hang out. I can’t tell you anything really.
I searched for inspirational quotes, because words are the way to my heart and I thought maybe my inspiration was hiding somewhere amongst my internal organs. I learned that the quieter you become, the more you can hear, which makes sense. I discovered that all the good stuff is outside our comfort zones, and that there are seven steps to happiness, which seems just a little too easy, right?
I Googled where to find inspiration, because the internet is always the answer. But the internet told me that exercise boosts creativity, which feels like a not so subtle dig at me for not going to the gym in like, forever.
So now I’m just going to sit here and wait for my inspiration to come back. In the meantime, I’ll write a whole lot of words that can best be described as perspiration and grit and maybe inspiration will just stumble through the door, find me working and join in.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
The first day of Summer.
Here's to ice cold cider, denim cutoffs, balmy nights and bare feet.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Two reasons. A nasty little spring cold, the most fun kind right - cue obvious sarcasm.
Prior to today I hadn't sat one, an exam I mean, for a decade. Way to make me feel old right. So I did what any fash-un gal would do - I dressed for the occasion. In cropped black denim, an oversized vintage Wrangler shirt and THE Acne boots.
Did it help my performance? Make me write clearer and more succinctly? Help those two hours feel more like the three I could have used instead? Maybe, maybe not. At this point, a good five hours after the fact, it's a moot point. What's done is done. I really should, however, be brushing up on my skills for tomorrows edition of exams I really do not want to have to take.
Instead, I'm here. Priorities, right?