Monday, March 01, 2010

Somewhere Only We Know

Where I live in my head is a jumbled mass of ideas and impressions. Sometimes, there's a really angry troll in there trying to use a machete to cut through the overgrowth. Like today.

I keep trying to get the people close to me to understand, but unless you've been somewhere, how do you know what the landscape looks like? I have this overwhelming desire every minute of every day to create something. That's why the vines grow and the buds come out and the webs get spun. My interior life is all about solving problems and making stuff - I don't walk down the street without re-imagining what everything *could* look like. I don't meet someone or see someone in line somewhere without instantly describing them in my head as if they were a character I was introducing. I don't go through my days half asleep. My head is buzzing. All the time.

Being misunderstood is probably the most profound of all human problems. I'm pretty angry sometimes because my time to be creative is limited. That makes me grumpy. And I know grumpy gets old to the people upon whom you inflict the sharpness and bitterness of a constant grump. I've read endless biographies of artists and writers and a common theme really is the tendency to make enemies out of your loved ones simply because the constant frustration of a creative life spreads like a ratty old quilt across a bed. Lumpy, full of holes and with a tell-tale musty smell at times. I just wish everyone understood that if I could make myself be upbeat and happy and carefree I WOULD!! But that's not the temperament nor the brain I was given. I was given this rich interior space full of creativity and brimming with the ability to "see" what things could look like transformed. It's crazy-making even though I do try for sanity. The one strategy that works for me over and over again is searching out the creative struggles other people endure.

I love the Dar Williams song, After All. Perfect description of creative angst and my favorite line is:
It felt like a winter machine that you go through, and then, you catch your breath and winter starts again, and everyone else is spring-bound.

Anyone else end up being misunderstood?