The other day, a friend asked me about rabbits.
What about them? I asked.
What do you do with them?
A childhood owner of two lop-eared bunnies, I knew there was only one thing to tell him. It didn't matter where you put them, where their cage was. There is, truly, only one thing that they want.
If they don't get the opportunity to do this, they are grumpy...well, angry, really. I told him.
He had no response. Because, really, what do you say to this? Perhaps he was thinking of how he could meet this need with a mood-lighting and a bunny pimp. Or, since they are two of them already, perhaps they have all they need. I didn't want him to elaborate. And he didn't, thankfully.
As for humans, we also get frustrated at a myriad of things we want or need that we may not have at the moment. Life insurance, a clean house, a reliable car, current photographs of our loved ones, sleep...feel free to add your own.
I was angry and irritable today, and at first, I could not pinpoint what it was. It wasn't any outside forces...it was me. I, like many others, have a need to create. Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I must create something.
I've gotten way too involved in other people's fashion. I've planned a detailed Academy Award party. I've taken pictures with my fancy schmancy camera. I've revamped lots of "this is how we always did it" professional systems. Created websites. Started two businesses. Facilitated design work. Wrote. and wrote. and wrote some more.
And, goodness, it just feels good to do those things. It's never a burden; it's always an indulgence.
And my spirit is stirring. My creativity is getting backed up, and it seems to be oozing out of my skin in protest. Think "A Time to Kill" where Ashley Judd, Matthew Mcconaughey--everyone in that movie--is just shiny with sweat.
My job, as much as it is a blessing editing business books in this economy, is dry. I suspect that my client with whom I'm on a retainer contract, reads my blog, but I know they understand me. They were even hesitant in the job interview because they thought their stuff would be too boring for me. Anything can be boring, though, and if only I could this creativity out in some shape or form, I'd feel a little better.
I'd get a little relief.
From the outside, we creatives certainly seem like a complicated lot, don't we? Our house gets messier faster than yours does, and other disciplines fall by the wayside. We appear flighty and dreamy. We overstay our welcome or steep you in awkward silence.
Do you understand now what we're dealing with here?