“The question is: what will you create?”

I am loving Mead’s words posted below. (Excerpts taken from “The Secret to Being Insanely Creative” by Johnathan Mead.)

You are already an artist.

You don’t have to create exquisite sculptures or breathtaking sonnets. You’re creating all the time simply by being alive. Every decision you make, every time you move, breathe, or speak you are creating. In fact, you couldn’t not create even if you wanted to. It’s simply impossible.

Just think about it: you’re the main character in your life story. Each day you develop and further the plot of your masterful performance. You interact with other secondary characters in your story that support your role. These are your friends, your lover, family and coworkers. They’re the supporting actors or actresses in your drama, and they also help mold your life’s narrative.

You can change the course of your story at any time by making new choices and walking down new paths. You can drop a secondary character and choose new ones, if they’re not supporting the story you’d like to create (except, perhaps, family members).

You constantly direct the play called your life; and that makes you a magnificent artist.  So if you’re creating your life all the time, wouldn’t it be more empowering to view yourself as an artist, rather than simply a passively living person? 

. . .

So what do you want to create? A film noir or a fairytale? You can choose a daring adventure or a comedy. It’s up to you as long as you accept that you’re the artist. You’ve got the brush, it’s up to you to put down the colors you like best.”

His words explain why I was happier with the prospect of losing my job. The situation was forcing me to switch gears and create. However, for some reason, my job is reclaimed– I, too necessary to unleash. Every hour last week sucked the life out of me. I know I can still choose to leave, but it was easier when the decision was made for me. Break ups are hard.

The initial knowledge of being fired allowed me to see a new future. I covered my ears to the “economy’s state.” I couldn’t be assaulted with the “if you have a job, you are lucky.” I had to believe I could change as easy as the wind. That something would be waiting to catch me. Invigorate me.

But then came the extension. And the exhaustion. Too tired to retire my days and create a new resume to bridge industries. The nights of this past week were a fog. A fog of somehow making it safely into bed. Not turning to that dormant addiciton. And my job continued. The hours were painful. I need to leave.

However, maybe the extension was also a gift–there was a reason in my story that the days have continued. I ended meetings last night that have the power to change everything. That could allow us to create something tangible as opposed to only the clouds of smoke that we now blow. Optimism Lies.  Parked outside American Airlines for thirty minutes, the other player and I, sat and created. Like two lovers who didn’t want to part. I bridged the gap and searched for why our companies were idle in their negotiations. I, am the only one that speaks their language. I will meet with my boss Monday and say I need to run the show. His answer, will determine my new path. 

And now, I am up, 7am on Saturday morning, happy to respond to emails and work. Tasks that require mind games to complete during working hours as of late. I suppose I lack focus when I know that I am simply pushing papers and stroking egos . . . 

The waiting game

Come kiss me. Or even just wrap your arms around me. I need a hug. I know everything will be okay, but I am dying to flee as I wait in vain. In my office, the energy swirls. Words not be spoken for the truth to be heard. I sit here, waiting. My boss walks in. Come talk to me when you ready, so we can discuss where we are. No hurry.

Yes, no hurry. I will wait. I will be procrastinating, waiting in pain.