in Writing

Night vegetation

I literally watched a dude eat a 5 lb. of Haribo sugar-free gummy bears . I’m not sure what that says about the productivity level of my evening, except, you know, that I thought watching a dude eat food known to cause “anal leakage” was a good use of my time.

But I laughed until I cried. Then I watched another one of his videos. So I have that going for me. Such is the vicious cycle of working, picking up my oldest daughter from school, coming home, cooking dinner and putting the kids to bed. When all is said and done, there’s no gas left in the tank for creative things – nor is the passion there.

Creatively, I’m like cauliflower because it’s bland and soaks up whatever flavors you surround it with. But I aspire to be a yam. You know – versatile, sweet and as much at home during holiday functions as your boring-ass Tuesday night pork chop dinner.

Okay, I killed the simile.

What I’m saying is, I have a lot of free time in the evenings, but I’m too exhausted to use it for a creative purpose. I mean, there’s the whole blog thing (read: this blog thing), but that’s so non-committal that it might as well be the coffee date of creativity. Gone are the college days of drinking half a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew and writing until 5AM. I’ve got adulting to do, and stuff.

The sad thing is that I know exactly where the wall is: it’s somewhere at the intersection of “there’s no caffeine in my body” and “look, L.A. Beast is doing the banana and Sprite challenge.”

So I fall back on haiku because they take minutes. Novels, not so much. Maybe one day I lock myself in a cabin in the woods and cement my place as the next Stephen King. Or I’ll figure out a way to treat the ideas that are kicking around in my head like haiku, and chip away at my novel one sentence at a time. Until then, I’ll take my creative outlets wherever I can get them: work, this blog, the email list I manage for my daughter’s classroom, or what-have-you. I’m not a hard person to please.