Friday, 24 April 2009

Running, walking, skipping, and torpor

So another Good Day in the fact that brain is on and open, ideas are processing, and you can almost feel the cogs. Thoughts feel strange when you are watching yourself have them. You are a moderator to the synapses; yes, hmmm, maybe, maybe not for you thought...oblivion. I have had a good day of putting information in my path, processing how it may be important to be, giving myself a pat on the back for being interested in things again. But then that little slug of work comes creeping around, tomorrow's shift closer than the one I finished at 7.30pm last night, so, like Julia Bradbury (again?), we are moving towards something (the North Sea) rather than away from it (the Lakes).

I'm not against working, I do enjoy my job, it's just this creative momentum of mine is a very delicate bete and it needs nurturing almost more than a newborn. It doesn't seem to fend well for itself. I stop tending it, and go into work mode. Just a few groups of negative thoughts swath in and cover it up, in some sweaty, itchy, polyester blanket. Then before I know it, the momentum is gone, flattened into the ground...oblivion. And I'm left picking up some dusty scraps. Now, I'm in danger of collapsing under my own metaphor here, but this is the difficulty in trying to convey an intangible thing.

I was thinking the other day, what I do enjoy on all levels is communicating. Whether it's ideas, visual sensibilities, information. I enjoy making people see, this is how it is, this is what I think, this is how I feel. It's not about being in a vacuum. Which is also why these holed up days of 'production' don't work. I need to connect with people to make things real. But then you're also fighting with the fact that these moments of genius do come from a quite place of contemplation.

I haven't written anything today. But I am going to start now. I'm going to surprise myself. I also want to enjoy my time at work and not feel angry that I can't think. I think each feeds the other. I'm not sure how successful I would be as a freelance journalist, home working is definitely difficult. One moment you're running, then you remember you're not ready, and you slow down, and it becomes fun, and before you know it you're in self-satisfied skipping territory. I am ace! Three hours later and it's torpor. Which I found out as a word today, and I love, so perhaps I didn't do too badly.

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