Lately, blue is the color that has described my life. It isn’t that I’m totally sad or totally hating life or am generating negative press for the color blue for the sake of being a whiny blogger (after all, it’s a great color), but it’s like that Eiffel 65 song without the peppy tune. Maybe I’ve been having a quarter life crisis, brought on by not knowing what I want to do with my life, not knowing where to start what I don’t know what to do, and not knowing why I’ve had such shoddy luck getting companies to even look at my resume (I swear I know how to type! Take a chance on me!).
I’m sure that’s a contributing factor to my blueness, but it’s also the lack of inspiration that has been dragging me down. It’s hard looking back on my blog and seeing all of the crazy stuff I wrote before, because I clearly (once upon a time) had mondo writing mojo, filled with snappy humor and unique perspectives. It’s hard having had a job that drained you so completely of ideas and inspiration, it’s even harder getting back to a version of you that you like. As a creative person, the stalling of ideas has been really hard. I might be out of that stifling environment, however, the ideas and confidence in my ability to – arguably – do what I do best didn’t rush back to me like I thought it would. I’ve started a lot of entries that never make it out of a folder. Paragraphs of fiction and non-fiction, character-driven pieces and show reviews that stop at a couple hundred words. They’re shelved because I don’t think they’re good. I have no idea if they’re actually bad, yet that nagging part in my brain has irrevocably convinced me that they’re not worthy of seeing the light of the internet.
My friends told me to write more, because that’s really the best way working through a block. I still contribute to a couple blogs, creating content that I actually really dig. It’s the personal side that’s neglected and sad, I don’t want it to stay that way. That statement definitely applies to life outside of writing as well, but this post has already turned more sappy than I wanted.
I’ve been cooking more, reading more, and waking my dog up from his slumber to entertain me more. Hopefully, I’ll be able to snap out of this funk with enough time to do things that I love to do – review fashion shows and review television shows and write things that I feel are an accurate representation of what I’m capable of.
To writers and readers alike: what do you do when you’re blue to break the funk?