Creativity.

Being creative is a painfully difficult task to handle. To be creative means that there was some part of yourself you have been holding back, hiding in the shadow, and now you've let it run the yard for a bit. You know you need to let your creativity run wild, what would the neighbors say if you didn't? The question is, how can I balance it with the rest of my life?

Ever meet someone who seemed so streamed into their job or a particular way of life, and you catch them doodling and notice the style of the hatch marks, the general quality of this quick work? Then the person reacted with shame and embarrassment on your interest? "Oh this? Ah, it's nothing. Kid shit, ya'know? Anyways, did you catch 24 last night?"

Here I am, sitting, thinking about the bottlenecks in my creativity. I haven't been writing as much as a feel I should be. Too busy with work, maybe. Too busy giving my time to Shannon, no regrets to that. I haven't been neglecting my creativity. Merely, just letting it out long enough to do it's deal.

But.

Motivation is an ice cold motherfucker. I am lazy. Those two things are the biggest hurdles from me achieving what I want. I was thinking of how I could get what I wanted, accomplish a goal large or small. Lets take money, for example. I could ask for more hours at my less than awesome job. Sure, I could do that. Problem is, I turn into a raging asshole if I have to work more than 3 days a week. They'll hire anyone. Anyone. If the store manager interviewed a bag lady and during the interview she opened her soiled fanny pack and started eating an old pizza crust, she'd still get a firm handshake and a "Welcome to the team. When can you start?" Maybe I could get a new job.

But I'm lazy, a lot of jobs are more or less lateral moves from my current one. The energy could be spent at play or at rest and have a more functional role. So I sat, thinking. I could work my short stories together and present them as a collection to a publisher. I'd need more material to make such a gesture worthwhile. Hardly twisting my wrist. That would be more appealing as it would be halfway to achieving multiple goals or even better, achieving them wholly.

So there was this mental outline of what to do. I promtly flushed the toilet, wiped my ass, and proceeded to do nothing.

It was glorious.

So the sun rises again with the intent to set.

Finals are over come 1:05PM today. No better than before. No better than they were. Flames on the corners of crisp dollar bills, dust on the tops of door frames. Bitter, maybe. Content, momentarily. I'll still find that imperfection in your smile when you're fresh from the dentist. Don't worry.