There is this dilemma that I hope you all can help me get perspective on.
I moved into a roommate situation that I’m excited about and having fun with. Originally, I was considering going solo again so I could set up my workspace and do all my creative things; writing, scrapbooking, photography, sculpting and stained glass.
The place I have with Indigo has a room that we’ll be sharing for my writing and scrapbooking and her jewelry and when her son visits we’ll clean up the space for him to stay.
However, now that I’m cleaning out the pod and looking at needing a storage unit to keep the rest of my stuff as there’s no room at the house, I’m realizing the most of the stuff to be stored is books and craft supplies; fabric, stained glass, polymer clay and sculpting tools.
I’m at this crux where I can’t seem to justify a hundred bucks a month for storage for stuff that I won’t get to play with. My options are, store it until I have my own space where I can spread out and hope that someday I’ll actually have the time and energy to sculpt again, or build pretty glass things. OR I can try to pull myself together enough to rent an artist space, store my crap there and actually make an effort to do these things. OR I can just face it – grow up and realize that I won’t be sculpting or building windows and plates again and dump my supplies. I have other artistic outlets and hobbies and I barely have time to take a shower and have coffee with friends – why hold on to these things?
There is this sadness at the thought of letting it go. Like a wave of thinking, “This creative life is not mine anymore. There is no more time to be creative.”
But that wave of thought gets immediately shot down by this… “WHAT?!!! You are an artist. Everything about you is an artist!!!. You are not an FAA with 60 hour weeks for the rest of your life! You are a writer, a storyteller an ARTIST! Spend the money! Make the time!”
Maybe it’s the funk of being sick, having pms, being emotionally exhausted from unpacking… but I can’t help but entertain the idea that if I just stop fighting it and let it happen I can grow out of needing to be a creator and just settle for the easy life and give up.
Wait a minute. This is the stupidest whiniest copout that I’ve ever heard myself blabber about! This is a bliss quest. BLISSQUEST! What am I talking about, grow up? WTF does that even mean?!!
If I’m going to work a job that sucks at my soul and time the very least it can do is pay for an artist space! My friends will understand if I’m working on creative stuff and can’t make it to coffee, better yet, my friends can come have coffee in a room full of stained glass and sculpted figurines and flowers and scrap albums! My friends could support that, they might even be able to support the fact that I reek from not having time to shower for the sake of art, but I suspect they wouldn’t support me not hanging with them because I’m depressed about not getting to be as artistic as my soul needs me to be. That’s because my friends rock and I’m just a big dork.
Please disregard the whinny above statements about giving up on my inner Creatix. Please forgive the weakness of character and my moment of faithlessness. Please don’t hold it against me that the dark side looked so tempting for a second. I didn’t really mean it.
I guess I just needed to write it out to see what it looked like and remember – PLAN A!
Here’s to Plan A. Now I’m off to craigslist to look for artist spaces to rent. Cheers.
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