The Point

You know that point in the day when you ask yourself a question, and your brain just says, "Uh uh." That point when there is just nothing left? I get that a lot. 

It is so very different from that fresh perspective driving to work in the morning, contemplating the possibilities of the day. I have a gorgeous drive to work. There are green fields on either side that bring to mind words like lush, and verdant. There are oak trees, and pine trees, that give way to tree lined streets of really cute houses. There is even a small rock mined mountain that is the home of three white mountain goats (I am not kidding) that we have irrevocably dubbed "the Goaties." I feel strongly that it is a Mama, a Daddy, and their kid ;)but my daughter holds firm to her belief that it is three girlfriends havin' good ol' times. I think she is just being oppositional. None of us has explored the option that they are the Billies Gruff.

The Point is- there are fields, and trees, and it is pretty. And I am awake. Seriously awake and the day is filled with possibilities. I am here to tell you that the possibilites have narrowed by the time those lush, verdant fields have deepened in the fading sun.  

By the time schedules and layouts have been mulled over and completed, mostly all I am contemplating is food. How good it will be, and how much effort I am prepared to use up to get it. Mmm dinner.

Don't misread my exhaustion. I have a cool job. I design t-shirts for a living. That is pretty cool as jobs go, but it is still exceedingly job-like at it's core. 

My point. I guess there are a several rolling about in here somewhere. 

It wasn't too long ago that I finally finished my long delayed art degree with the goal of finally having a job that allowed me to be creative at work. The idea was only partly to get paid for being creative. See, I know how little time is left in a day after you do the things that you have to do, and you get to do the things that you get to do. I wanted that big chunk of my day to be about something creative. Plus, I had one year left, and I knew that getting to go to school for a year was going to be SO fun. I was right. I want you to know that I did not waste that year. I rolled in those classes, and soaked them up until my fingers got all pruney. I took as many drawing, and painting, and designing, and getting messy classes as you can take without passing out. I was on campus all day, in studio with the charcoal and oils for hours, and I enjoyed (almost) every bit. And when I wasn't creating, I was thinking about creating. I almost let myself believe that this sort of creative energy could last for always. 

I am back in the real world now. But here's the thing: there is still room. Only a little bit of room sometimes, and only a little bit of energy sometimes; but not only is there room, there is a deep burning desire to make something (or write something apparently.) A new scarf, a little sketch, a masterpiece. 

Even when all you have left is, "Fire bad, tree pretty." Yes, I am a nerd.