Gah. I open up TypePad every day at my desk, and then I stare at it for 7 hours, and leave work, and done. I never blogged yesterday, though TypePad sat open in my browser all day.
The problem is that I simply have nothing to say. Wait, that's not right. I do have things to say, but I can't figure out how to say them anymore. I'm pretty sure this is because I am extremely self-conscious about my writing right now.
I feel very strongly that I'm not a creative person. I'm very good at building off of what I have in front of me (for instance, as in recipes) or following the pattern you give me (as in cross-stitch), but I'm no longer good (or maybe I never was good) at creating things from thin air. I just don't think that's the way my brain works. I'm not saying this to garner any sort of response, and I don't feel particularly sad about it. I just think that the power of my brain is in being able to execute quickly and responsibly and easily. I don't know how to describe how I think about this, exactly, except to say that some people can probably imagine no greater prison in their lives, and yet I feel freed a bit.
I think this has something to do with the fact that college beat into me the idea that I would be an extraordinary woman. It's not a bad message for a college to send--after all, certainly some of my classmates will go on to be extraordinary, amazing women. And possibility, when you graduate from college, seems to be endless, and it helps to have someone whispering these messages in your ear. But. I realized, at some point, that I don't have the drive necessary to become extraordinary. I have, in fact, nearly zero drive. I just want to live happily, bumbling along, life full of love and good food. And it seems like that's happening for me.
So. I just don't feel driven to be creative anymore. I don't even know if I could be if I wanted to be. And I'm 100% happy to throw off the pressure to be extraordinary, and just be. (It just makes it hard to muster a blog post when you're reallllly not feeling it.)
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