I'm writing again. Could not figure out what was causing the
block or lack of desire to work on any writing projects.
Finally figured it out.
I had moved my writing desk out of my office/studio/writing room thinking I did not want work to mix with my creativity. So I moved a writing desk to my bedroom and it was set up so pretty but seemed cluttered. Or the room seemed cluttered with it in it because it is a small bedroom. I just couldn't sit down and write there for long and there was no view. I was always avoiding it and in my office instead.
So yesterday I looked at my office and thought man I miss writing in this room with the view of the street and treeline above the cemetery. The shadows of the blue walls relax me and feel so cool in the summer heat. I Glanced down at the large pile of pine that is my new wood floors and thought that pile of wood is fucking with my creativity.
Finally figured it out.
I had moved my writing desk out of my office/studio/writing room thinking I did not want work to mix with my creativity. So I moved a writing desk to my bedroom and it was set up so pretty but seemed cluttered. Or the room seemed cluttered with it in it because it is a small bedroom. I just couldn't sit down and write there for long and there was no view. I was always avoiding it and in my office instead.
So yesterday I looked at my office and thought man I miss writing in this room with the view of the street and treeline above the cemetery. The shadows of the blue walls relax me and feel so cool in the summer heat. I Glanced down at the large pile of pine that is my new wood floors and thought that pile of wood is fucking with my creativity.
"Yep," I said out loud to the room "it is definitely fucking with my creativity!"
Went back down the hall to
my bedroom that is painted a happy yellow and glanced at this space at
the end of my bed and thought If I moved the wood there to the end of
the bed it would be out of the way. Plus I would look at it every time I
came in my bedroom and want perhaps to get off my ass and install it.
I started to move all this wood and it is not light or small, down the hall and tucked it in this new space. Now the writing desk was even more cluttered in this small room. So this morning I moved my writing desk back into my office and BOOM like a crack of thunder it was all back. Creativity... desire... and the urge. I thought it might feel cluttered in the office with two desks and my drafting table but each work space has its own purpose for creativity and where my writing desk sits now I have an even better view then I had before and BOOM... like I have already stated the creativity is back and I opened my writing and meandering file and started in on it all again.
I have been having a little affair filled with good fun clean sex. Last night I took some UPT from work to go and watch his baseball game. He is the coach for the Bricks team and after the game we headed to the Brick to enjoy pitchers of beer and baseball chit chat. Then later headed to my house and as we leaned against the porch our arms touching as they rested on the base of the porch. We looked out into the dark night as we smoked and talked some more. I mentioned that I had moved all this wood to my bedroom. He started laughing and shaking his head and said, "why did you do that?"
I started to move all this wood and it is not light or small, down the hall and tucked it in this new space. Now the writing desk was even more cluttered in this small room. So this morning I moved my writing desk back into my office and BOOM like a crack of thunder it was all back. Creativity... desire... and the urge. I thought it might feel cluttered in the office with two desks and my drafting table but each work space has its own purpose for creativity and where my writing desk sits now I have an even better view then I had before and BOOM... like I have already stated the creativity is back and I opened my writing and meandering file and started in on it all again.
I have been having a little affair filled with good fun clean sex. Last night I took some UPT from work to go and watch his baseball game. He is the coach for the Bricks team and after the game we headed to the Brick to enjoy pitchers of beer and baseball chit chat. Then later headed to my house and as we leaned against the porch our arms touching as they rested on the base of the porch. We looked out into the dark night as we smoked and talked some more. I mentioned that I had moved all this wood to my bedroom. He started laughing and shaking his head and said, "why did you do that?"
"Because it was fucking with my creativity."
He laughed into the night
and glanced over at me his green eyes twinkling in the low lights coming
from the house. The music of the stereo coming through the copper screen
of the summer door. "It was fucking with your creativity?"
"Yep." I replied.
He chuckled again and said "That's actually pretty funny." And said it softly again into the night, "fucking with your creativity," as he shook his head smiling.
But as I write with glee this morning of this epiphany. I have to laugh because it worked. Plus the sex is good. The man can do wonders with his hands, fingers and mouth.
Damn its good to be back to my life.. like I love to live it. The sabbatical lasted 6 days...lmfao...
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