Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Creative Writing

I realized this morning as I stared at the morning me in the mirror that I, at heart, am a writer. I examined my face and wrote poetry in my head as I prepared for my day. I would love to be able to sit and stare at the ocean, with a pen in my hand and a bottle of pinot nior beside me, and write my days away- inspired by the beauty that can only be provided by isolation and nature.

Instead I do what so many of us do:
I work.

I sit at my desk through my day, and although I don’t hate my job by any means, it leave little room for my creative side, minus the blogging breaks I take through the day when life slows down (a.k.a. Lunch). I work through the day and night is full of too tired to do anything and television land. The weekends are busy with Christmas shopping, errand running and catching up with friends. I accept that I choose to do these things, just as I choose the OC in the evening, when I could easily be writing, but the inspiration just isn’t there. And I don’t quite know how to find it.

In my most honest moments, I know that most of what I write is novice and I am horrible at grammar and I write like I feel- passionately- and usually before I think it through. I know I’m no Sylvia Plath, but I enjoy the feeling of sitting and thinking and expressing my emotions through my words. Words are so powerful- they have the ability to lift up, to destroy, to teach, to enlighten... They are my saving grace and they are my weapon of choice. I wish that I were just better at putting them together sometimes.


"If I collected all of my accomplishments, and lined them along my dresser like the salt shakers from the diner, I am most proud of your love for me."
posted by Kellie @ 10:42 AM |

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