the place

Sometimes you’re in the middle of folding laundry and are watching Abstract: The Art of Design on Netflix at the same time and thinking about how you’ve been in this really weird frustrating place for the past several days. It’s a place you find yourself over and over again, probably once every couple of months at a minimum. It’s restlessness to the extreme, but restlessness that causes stagnation. You have so many things you want to do and creative ways you want to spend your time that it overwhelms and you shut down because you don’t know where to go with it and you have so many other “real life” things that have to get done so those other things take a backseat yet again and this whole process just causes angst and irritation and well, stagnation. How can I be both/all things? I don’t have time for everything I want. Then I freak out and write in both first and third person on the blog I’ve neglected but love and frantically text my like-minded friends to vent. And then I go back to laundry and cubicle nation work. Because that’s what makes the suburban life go ’round, right? That’s what pays the bills and the health insurance, not my random ideas and creative bursts of whatever it is I do in my head but rarely do in reality. I’m having a moment of overwhelming-ness and tears and anger and panic over all of it. Is it a time management issue? Because even great artists and writers and creative people have kids and mundane responsibilities to handle. Maybe they don’t have the cubicle-nation job that stifles them until they can’t breathe, but some do. So how do they do it? There’s a sense of desperation in me right now that is suffocating. #franticwordvomit

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