This is my first mini-letter. A short off-week newsletter where I want to focus on my thoughts about creativity/writing/performing stand-up and the struggles that go with it. This week we are focusing on the insidious relationship plaguing me at the moment - the one between inspiration and resentment.
I didn’t know that inspiration came at such a high price. You fight and fight to have an idea, any idea and then when you do it’s impossible to find the time to get it anywhere beyond your notes app. And I’ve never been more inspired than I am right now, even my tarot card reading mentioned the creative fire that is raging within me (their words). All I want is to be able to take my ideas with me to a cabin in the woods where I can write for a month uninterrupted by the demands of the modern world. If someone could drop off little meals to me throughout the day so I can’t procrastinate by cooking that would be even better.
But I can’t, because I have a day job and a million other obligations that insist on getting in the way (I probably make too big a deal out of tasks like going to the dentist and big weekly shop). Obviously, I am very appreciative to have some work to pay the bills that insist on coming in regularly and I am lucky enough to have a job that is flexible when I need it to be so that I can go and work on other projects. But at the same time, it is hard not to feel trapped by that flexibility and indebted when you do take it. An additional source of depletion on an already depleted reserve of energy.
I can’t do my best job at work because I do not love it and I can’t just do what I love because it doesn’t pay me the money I need so that I can let it slip through my fingers as I swan about the city buying expensive olive oils and call it an Artist Date. I know it is on me to make the most out of what I have and try and bring some joy to it. For so long at work I prided myself as the person in charge of corporate morale by cracking jokes to get out of working instead of the resident cynic. Plus I can’t deny as I work on my next hour show about the way cities are designed (and not designed) that there is inspiration there to be taken if you want it.
But inspiration is like fireworks. Or maybe less of a waste of money than fireworks. It’s more similar to the firework-esque sparks of my dad welding two bits of steel together. You can’t look at it too directly or it’ll burn your corneas to a crisp. It’s so exciting when it’s happening that you hate to be told that you have to look anywhere else. Perhaps even though I yearn for time with the inspiration, it wouldn’t be what is best for it. I might only think my ideas are great when I can’t catch a proper look at them.
Regardless I probably haven’t helped myself by writing this in the time I do have available to do so, but I thought putting it down in words might help me let go of that resentment and actually be productive for once.
Some Links
Coincidentally with this email I recently say the movie Living which was a great ode to town planning and Council’s.
A brutal take down of Jack Antonoff’s unique brand of nothing music.
Endlessly obsessed with stories of affairs, particularly in the workplace. Would never occur to me, especially not in academia.
I need to keep working with these delicious earings in mind.
Ripped straight my brain I see! “Or not designed” AKA Sydney, the Bain of my existence.