Give Me That Dynamite, I'll Do it Myself

Description: Originally posted on old blog. I discuss how working full-time since graduating college has seemed to put a damper on my muse.
Date: December 8, 2010 

I have 9000 ideas running through my head from the usual photography, to this screenplay I’ve written all of two pages of, to creative Christmas gift ideas. And I’m trying to find that girl I used to be.

She was surrounded by art and creativity and the pursuit of intellect. I didn’t start ignoring her because I didn’t like her. Rather, I think she’s been ignoring me … because she can’t relate to me. She can’t relate to this person who would rather watch TV than read, who can’t be bothered to choose a band to listen to on her iPod so she’s turned to broadcast radio instead, and who … dresses funny.

I’ve written about this before. See, I feel like I’ve gotten lost in my work pants. I know that sounds pretty silly, but the more hours I spend in a pair of black work pants, the less I begin to recognize myself. I mean, I have to ask myself – am I growing up? Or am I abandoning something that meant so much to me because it just doesn’t agree with upper management?

I don’t know the answer to that. But I do know that I have an excuse for everything, for my love affair with my DVR, for not re-reading the Harry Potter series, for having not finished a song in its entirety since 2008 … for not running out to the civic theater and auditioning for their shows. (Hate commercials, too tired, not inspired, no time.)

There truly are some days where I want to sell or give away half of my belongings and cut off our cable. I want to find that girl I learned to love, who was always up for a road trip and who was willing to sleep on someone’s possibly filthy floor in exchange for a new adventure the next day. I want to take that girl who could live without her PDA as long as she had a guitar, and make her into a girl who’s content with the minimal, taking joy in the fact that she’s healthy enough to serve God.

But that girl still needs to be pulling about $2000 a month pay mortgage and, you know. Eat food.
 
I know you’re in there. I know you don’t want to come out because there’s a desk in front of you with a bunch of paperwork on it. I know that if I got rid of the paperwork and told you that you could just sit all these kids in a circle and mentor them for a few hours a day, dressed like you, presenting yourself as you and not some … career woman … you’d come out right away.

I’ll get you to come out again.