When I think about creativity I think about chaos, hard work, and sleepless night. I think about the mind whirling and churning with ideas and thoughts that more often than not result in a heavily written note book riddled with a list of to do’s.
I have scored the Internet in my quest to organize my thoughts and ideas. Always on the search for that one magical notebook that might nicely place my thoughts and random yearnings in some magical order.
I watch as my type A friend’s organize their thoughts and homes into a neatly complied list. Mondays are for cleaning, Tuesdays we do laundry, Wednesday is family night etc etc. And I’m always left with the question, how?
Even if I wanted to submit myself to a tortured rigorous lifestyle I couldn’t. My mind works like this. I have a list of to do’s but really it depends on the day and the priority. What if I don’t feel like doing laundry on Monday? And instead sand down that new treasure I found? The dishes are mounting but I have to grab the words for my new blog post before they disappear. And trust me they do. They vanish like the missing sock you’ve been looking for if your not careful to take them it as they come. The rest will still be there waiting for me tomorrow right? My house may be in shambles but I got the creative project done that’s been calling my name.
I have no beef with my type A comrades. I secretly wish I could be more like them. And they wish they were more creative like me. But we can’t have it all can we? Women with straight hair wish it could be curly and vis versa.
Luckily for me my husband is an excellent organizer. Really, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. When we go grocery shopping he puts them away stragically like a game of battleship. I usually sit and watch in wonder. How does he do that? And he wonders, why is my wife such a mess?
But to each his own. I like to think that we compliment each other marvously. And I’m happy to have a partner who just gets me. We all need that don’t we?
So the next time you struggle with yourself and the things you think you lack, remember someone else wishes they had your talent. I will never be the next Martha Stewart. My cookies are titanium hard and flat. I’ve tried every tip and trick on the planet and they still taste like cardboard. And will be a miracle if I get to the laundry this week. But I’m happy honing my skills. I’m happy tinkering away in the garage on my latest prized find. And I’m happy typing away this post.
SO go find your happy. The laundry will wait.
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