The spark: the desolation of being creatively challenged

04/10/12
I'm not quite sure when I realized that I was creative.  I know that, as a kid, before my brother was born, I spent a lot of time fighting ninjas in my backyard.  And they had jet packs and hurled pudding. And they spoke a foreign language when they were trying to plan their attacks on me--but I understood it (because I made the language up, you see)...

I learned Kenny Rogers songs before I could put actual sentences together on my own.  I sang, as a kid, and people listened.  I had three aunts on my mom's side that were crazy for me--I was the first.  My brother came four years later, then a slew of young kids.  But I soaked it up for four years.  They sang to me.  They teased me.  When I cried, they'd mock me, and I'd be angry.  I'd be overly dramatic.  Like, extremely.  My grandma tells me (almost every week) how I'd kick my legs up in the air and proclaim, behind false tears, that it was "just toooo much".  Whether I had to clean up two toys, or two bedrooms full of toys, it was all too much.  I wrote short stories.  Music.  Movie scripts.  I'd call play-by-play for games, video games, and games going on in my head.  My friend Ric was equally warped.  So we were never bored.  And we were, for the most part, misunderstood by those around us.

Today, on the way home, I became conflicted.  I was doing this Friday by Five thing for a while with some friends, and it forced me to write and record one song a week--and post one every Friday. By five.  Hence the name.  Solo-wise, this was a prolific period of about eight months.  I recorded 20-some songs.  I'd alternate between a cover one week, and an original the next.  And I MISS being forced to do that.  So, I wanted to write something original and record it today.  But I also have three more instrumentals for KKC's next album I want to do.  Then, I have some lyrics for a song which I wrote today--a KKC song about gluttony.  I actually became upset--which one do I do? 

Then, I became frustrated with myself.  Here I am, being upset about what type of thing I want to do--picking between these tasks, just like when I was three--is "just toooo much".  (I did NOT start rolling around at Chipotle, kicking my legs in the air)

How selfish of me.  I have been lucky enough to have all these outlets, and I'm bitching about which one I should do first.  I cannot DRAW--I've always been awful in that department.  But I can write, or play music, or (as the case is right now) blog about being swarmed by something that really should never SWARM me.  There are so many people who don't have that outlet.  I play in front of hundreds of people, in one of TWO bands, every year.  I take it for granted.  How many people would give their right ass cheek to just play THEIR music in an original band on-stage--once!?! 

So, I'm going to start doing Friday by Five on my own, as soon as this Robotics season is over.  I might even do it tonight.  I've seen people struggle doing ANYTHING creative at all--so I need to force myself, through my whiny-bitchy tantrums, to create.  Some people WISH they could bitch about that choice.  Some people WISH they had pudding-flinging ninjas with jet packs.  But that fight is mine alone.