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Creativity Needs No Road Map (apparently)

  • Posted on July 25, 2011 at 11:27 am

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about creativity.  Actually, I’ve mostly been thinking about it this morning because the lovely Michelle Ward, aka the When I Grow Up Coach, posted a link to a fabulous podcast from Creative Living with Jamie featuring Brené Brown (how’s that for a linking extravaganza?!?).  I’ve never been an avid podcast listener – in fact, this was my first EVER – but it got the (lately) squeaky wheels in my creative noggin’ a turnin’.

Undoubtedly, I would classify myself as a creative person.  But I think I’ve struggled with it for a long time. More often than not, I’ve been “socially acceptably” creative.  This is a label that’s been mostly self-imposed, I realize now, but for most of my life, I’ve yearned to be creative – but not too creative, in case the rest of the world thinks I’m a nut job.  Sure, I performed in plays – but only as a hobby.  I’ve sung in choirs and vocal groups – but more as a pastime, not as a career.  I’ve dabbled in photography, writing, acting, singing, card-making, gardening, arranging music – all sorts of things.  But I’ve always felt like I needed to have a “purpose” for those things.

For example:

Photography – hmmmm, a new possible career path?

Writing – hmmmm, a means to develop myself as an “expert” in a given area (ie. coaching)?

Acting – hmmmm, it runs in the family so it must be something I *should* do…and hey, maybe I can build that resume and maybe make some money one day?

Singing – see “acting”

Card-making – hmmmm, a possible Etsy side business?

Gardening – hmmmmm, must have a pretty garden like the neighbours and hey, maybe there’s another career option?

Arranging music – hmmmm, more along the “acting” and “singing” lines?

I’ve never really just let myself be creative for the sake of being creative.  Somewhere along the lines, I lumped myself into the “smart girl” category and let myself get carried away by thoughts of using my smarts to make money, and then feeling utterly let down by the fact that although I probably could use my smarts to make cashola, I would likely want to poke my eyeballs with a fork if I subjected myself to that, day in and day out.

So, instead, it appears I have leaped from the “smart girl” category into the “creative girl” category, and now I’m rolling all sorts of creative business ideas through my brain and getting frustrated and cranky with figuring out how to make money from those. When did my world become all about looking smart and/or making money?? It seems to be the overruling law of my life. For like, EVAR.

I have rarely let myself be creative for the sake of being creative – I’ve always had an ulterior motive. Which, ultimately, is so unbelievably smothering to my poor old creative self.

Right.

So, I started this post with the intention of talking about something else entirely (still based in the world of creativity), but look where I’ve ended up (well, really, you have no comparison because you didn’t know where I was going in the first place).  BUT, I will point out that it does feel just a little bit wonderful to let my creative side just blab onto the cyberpages, destination unknown.

Apparently creativity doesn’t need a fucking roadmap, so maybe I should just stop trying to make one. Just be creative.

Seriously.

 

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The Same Whiny Crap

  • Posted on July 6, 2011 at 3:39 pm

I kinda feel like I’ve been on a bit of a vacation lately.

Work has been slightly slow (as it normally is this time of year).  I’m not at rehearsals 3 times a week.  And the weather has been gorgeous these last few days, which means I’ve been spending my time either reading a book on my patio, or up to my elbows in dirt in my garden.

You would think this would be thrilling for me, and for the most part, it is. But there’s also that side of me that rears it’s ugly head every now and then, when I am reminded that most people don’t have this luxury.  Most people are sitting inside air-conditioned offices at 3:20pm on a Wednesday afternoon.

Unfortunately, I spend an unnatural amount of time fretting over what those office-dwellers must think about someone like me. Do they think I’m lazy? What would I say to that?  How do they manage to keep up with their daily lives because I’m busy as heck and I don’t work 9-5?  Would they be bitter if they could comment on my lifestyle?  And how would I respond?  And why (WHY?) do I deserve a life like this?

To be honest, I have hesitated against writing on this blog lately because I really feel like most of my “problems” are fabricated because of those aforementioned questions and worries.  I seriously struggle with how whiny it all sounds. But the truth is, I don’t have any real answers to those questions. I don’t know why I get to have this life, and sometimes the guilt is a little overwhelming.

BUT

This blog is about learning to live my life out loud. And this – reading books and gardening and writing whiny blog posts – this is my life right now. So, my challenge is – how can I write about my life honestly without sounding like a spoiled housewife? How can I convince myself, and the office-dwellers (more accurately know as the evil voices in my head), that this life, however  luxurious t may seem, is still honest and healthy and above all, my choice?

Time to figure that out. ‘Cause I’m getting tired of writing the same whiny crap.

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Don’t Call Me Mrs.

  • Posted on June 1, 2011 at 2:36 pm

I changed my name.

Finally.

It took me almost 5 years of being married, but I have now (almost) officially change my name. And it feels fucking weird.

Initially, it was really just laziness that held me back.  It seemed like such a giant pain-in-the-ass to go through all of the various processes to change all of my documentation over.  So, I just didn’t. I’ve never really been particularly attached to my maiden name. It’s a nice enough name. But I’m not obsessed with it.

And then, when I kind of got to thinking about actually changing my name, I went through a lot of mixed emotions. Wouldn’t it be anti-feminist to take my husband’s last name? Why do I have to conform? Why doesn’t he change his name? Why do I have to be the one that goes through all the trouble? What kind of example am I setting by changing my name?  What kind of example am I setting by not changing my name? Won’t it look bad, after 5 years of being married and not changing my name, to finally change it over? And ugh….I do NOT want to be referred to as a “Mrs.”

I seriously gave it a lot of thought.

And ultimately, it came down to this: I’ve done a lot of personal soul-searching and figuring out just what the hell I’m all about in the past year or so.  I’ve literally uncovered a whole new me – a me I kind of suspected was there, but wasn’t really sure how to unearth. But I am not the same person I was a year ago. I am not the Eran Norton that I used to be.

And it felt like I could use a new name to go along with this new identity.

So, Eran Sudds has been born.

I’m not gonna say I’m totally used to it yet.  I am so NOT used to it. But it’s kinda like putting on a pair of freshly cleaned jeans.  You literally have to squeeze yer ass into them, and they don’t really fit right away, but the more you wear them, the cozier they feel and the more comfortable you become.

Wearing my new name has been like putting on those dryer-fresh jeans.  I feel awkward and not quite right in this name, but I’m wearing it in, slowly but surely.  It’s a heck of a lot quirkier than my old name, and I like that. It’s shorter – I like that too.

And I’m sure that eventually, it’ll fit me perfectly. As long as nobody ever calls me Mrs. Sudds.

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Reframe of Mind

  • Posted on May 24, 2011 at 5:11 pm

Lately I’ve been really curious about the power that my thoughts and state-of mind have over my general well-being. A few weeks ago, I was going crazy with boredom because I kept telling myself I had “nothing to do.”

This morning I woke up, and when that seemingly giant list of things to do started waltzing through my brain, I immediately got that familiar stress-case feeling I get when I think “I’m too busy.”

And yet, I still have the timely luxury of sitting here in Starbucks, typing this fine blog post for you people.

(by the way, there is a couple across from me here, alternately sucking on eachother’s fingers.  I want to stare at them so I can figure out what the hell they are doing, but I don’t want to appear rude)

And so, it leaves me wondering – am I manifesting my own anxiety?  And if so, how much of it am i manifesting?  How much of it is because of the weather? (I’m very much believing that the crap weather is intensely affecting my moods lately). How much of it is directly related to my list of things to do (or lack of)?

I guess I want to try and reframe the way I approach my own attitude to time. If I mentally tell myself that “you have lots of time,” will I be able to shake that stress-case feeling that I get sometimes?  Alternatively, if I give myself a “you’re blessed to have this much free time” pep talk, whenever I’m feeling underwhelmed with things to do, will I be able to curb those feelings of crazy boredom?

I’m not sure.  But I’m willing to give it a go.

As long as it’s sunny outside.

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Confession

  • Posted on May 14, 2011 at 1:31 pm

Ok.  I have a confession to make.

I’m bored.

I’ve tried this whole “being” thing for maybe about a week, and to be honest – I want to scream.  Granted, I’m not spending a whole lot of time enjoying just “being.”  Most of the time I sit around wondering what to do next, worrying about how I’m being perceived by the outside world and scolding myself for looking for something else to do.

But seriously?  Fuck it.

I’m bored. So bored that I had myself a little cry about it this morning.  But luckily, hubby was there and we had one of those relieving lie-in-bed-and-just-be-honest-even-if-it-makes-you-teary kinda mornings. I vented. I whined. I threw logic out the window and just let my emotions blah-blah-blah themselves out. It is so luxurious to be able to do that.

And turns out, I’m fucking bored. Bored, bored, bored.

I need some stimuli for my brain.  I need to be learning something.  I need to get out of of my freakin’ house.  I need to do things – ANY things – even if those things don’t make me money. Even if they cost me money.  Even if it’s just purely for my own selfish feel-good happy feelings.

I need to make a list or something.  A list of things that I’m interested in, things that I enjoy, things that I’ve always wanted to do, or have been too lazy to do.

I’m going to make a list.

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Funk.

  • Posted on May 11, 2011 at 2:45 pm

I’m in a funk.

This generally happens when I’m looking down the barrel of one uneventful day after another, with not so much to look forward to, and not a lot on my plate. Granted, this is something I chose to face head on, after I recently decided that I was just going to spend some time “being”.  But without fail, my demons show up and once again, I’ve ended up in a funk.

It’s not that I don’t have things I could be doing – I do. I have a few non-work projects that I’ve got on the go; I have writing that I could be doing; things I could to be doing around the house; other avenues I’m curious about pursuing.  I go to bed every night with good intentions to spend the next day starting a new project or finishing an old one. But lately, I’m just not motivated.

I’m not sure that I’d say I’m discouraged. I’m just a little….uninspired. And I’m desperately fighting the urge to “find something to do.” Normally when this kind of funk hits, I start trolling the web for jobs to apply for and/or potential volunteer opportunities.  Or I go shopping for something I don’t need.  Or I start putting myself out there for work contracts I don’t really want to do.

I have an incessant need to feel like I’m doing something.  That I’m contributing to my household and to the world in some way. I’m having a really hard time allowing myself to just sit and do something like read a book for the afternoon. That voice in the back of my mind whispers, “Good God, woman – what if someone found out???“.

Truth is, I doubt anyone really cares what I’m doing with my time.  As far as I know, there isn’t anyone out there keeping tabs on my daily activities, and how much time I spend “contributing” versus how much time I spend reading a book.  No one is monitoring the hours I spend working or the dollars I put into my bank account.

No one except me. I’m my own worst enemy.

But what’s the solution?? I think I’m hoping that by allowing myself the time to just “be,” one of two things will happen.  I’ll either become comfortable with who I am right now, what I’m doing, and how I’m contributing to this world and my life. OR something that’s “meant to be” will suddenly makes itself clear to me.  In the dating world, they always say that the perfect person comes around when you’re not looking for them.  I guess I’m hoping this will happen in the larger sense of my life.

I don’t want to settle.  I don’t want just take up any old job, just to fill time and space.  I want to be excited about something!  I want to feel inspired and motivated and ridiculously keen to wake up in the morning and get going on my day.

Maybe it’s just today.  Maybe it’s the rain and the gloom and the gray. Maybe it’s a lot of things. Maybe it’s nothing.

Maybe…

 

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Happiness – Check! Now what?

  • Posted on May 4, 2011 at 12:55 pm

Lately, I’ve been pretty darn content. And it’s been bugging the crap outta me.

As many of you know, I quit a full-time job for a non-profit back in 2007 (wow! 3.5 years ago….that’s friggin’ nutty).  I had tons of plans, and I had no plans whatsoever.  I had gobs of ideas of things that I wanted to do, and I was ready and rarin’ to go try all of them on for size.  But I had no clear path.  Just the hope that something would fall into place, and things would suddenly feel like they “fit.”

So, off I went.  I started pimpin’ myself out, taking meetings, gathering info, taking classes, trying on different short-term work contracts, traveling, writing, self-examining, going, going, going. I was all over the place and nowhere all at the same time. It was great. And confusing. And exhilarating. And exhausting. And the best darn decision I’d ever made.

But I think one can only do that for so long.

Lately, I’ve been wondering about this massive quest I’ve been on. I have this problem, y’see.  It’s something that has recently come to light.

I am absolutely terrible at listening to myself and what I actually want.

I get wrapped up in creating the right image of myself – as a career woman, as a wife, as a “normal functioning member of society,” as someone that’s got it all figured out, someone with direction, or a path, or a Clear, Concise Purpose.  I chase after all the things I think I should be but rarely take the time to look at where I actually am.

(I’m getting slightly annoyed at myself for all the italicized words. Apologies.)

So, here’s what I’m trying lately: I’m just being. Because when I look at the life I’m living, it turns out I actually really like it. I enjoy my part-time job (shout-out to Bobs & LoLo!); I love the group that I’m singing with (shout-out to Aliqua!); I’m proud of the self-work that I’ve been doing (cheeseball, I know, but I know no better way to put it); I am grateful for the spare time that I have to write, and sip chai tea, and garden, and create music, and read, and bake. And I’m happy.

But it feels wrong. I feel like I should be doing more than I am.  Like I owe it to the world or to someone (myself?) to do something bigger with my life.  To use my smarts, my talents, my enthusiasm for something larger than my current existence. Not to mention the fact that I’m constantly worrying about who I’m letting down to live this content little life that I have. Worrying that I’m not making the big bucks like I know I could be doing if I’d sold out to a more lucrative career path. Petrified that the rug is going to be pulled out from under me at some point.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Like I said, it’s bugging the crap outta me.

So lately, I’m trying to make peace with the fact that this may be It.  And I don’t mean that in a “things ain’t ever gonna get better than this” kinda way.  But more in a “hey kid, you did it” kinda way. Maybe this is where I’m meant to be right now.  And maybe that’s ok.  In fact, maybe it’s friggin’ brilliant. I’ve always said that my one, all-encompassing goal in life is to be happy. All things considered, I’ve achieved that.

So, now what?

 

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Being Sick, Getting “The Ick” and General Ruminating

  • Posted on April 7, 2011 at 4:40 pm

Hello world.  Yes, I’m still alive.  And yes, I am aware that it’s been over 2 weeks since I last posted. But I have a good excuse!

I was SICK.

Like miserably, disgustingly, can’t-believe-I-didn’t-get-the-flu-shot SICK.

And I know that should be a decent enough excuse.  But it’s kinda not.  Because although I was sick, I still had a ton of free time on my hands.  Time that I spent being an unmotivated BLOB, watching re-runs of sad shows like 90210 on my couch.  So, instead of writing, I got all gross and depressed and snotty and whiny.  I stopped wanting to write.  I didn’t feel like I had anything important to say.  I felt sorry for myself.

I was a real treat.

And now?  Well, I still don’t feel like I have anything all that important to say.  I still feel a bit unmotivated and slightly lacking in purpose. But I have been ruminating.  Yes, I’ve been ruminating A Lot.  (I love the word ruminating)

Most of you that have followed this blog, and my old blog The Quarterlife Quest, for awhile would remember that in the fall, I started a life coach training program.  I very much loved the courses.  I loved the people I met.  I loved the things I learned, both about myself and in how to interact with other people. But something just wasn’t quite “clicking”.  I was running full steam ahead towards the certification program.  I had all the clients lined up.  I had paid the deposit.  And I was completely dreading the whole thing.

(I’m having a very bizarre sense of déjà vu right now – have I written about this already? Or just talked about it a lot to friends and family?)

So, what is one to do? Part of me was a bit worried that I was only freaking out because I was scared and/or because I wasn’t totally amazing at coaching yet (and we all remember how much I love doing things that I suck at). The other part of me wondered if maybe coaching just wasn’t “it”. I kept plugging forward anyways. But I really couldn’t shake the icky feeling.

My university girlfriends and I often talked about “The Ick” when we were all still in the dating world. You know when you are dating someone and although everything about him seems great and he really seems to suit you and your friends like him and he’s funny and he smells good but after a few weeks of dating, you suddenly develop this weird icky feeling? Like something is just not right? That even though he may seem perfect for you, you still start avoiding him and making up reasons why he *isn’t* perfect for you, like his ear hair is too long, or he dances with his hands in his pockets? My friends and I started calling that “The Ick”:

Now some may argue that “The Ick” is just me (or you, or whoever), being immature. That we actually create “the ick” because we’re not ready for that person or experience in our lives.

Fair enough.

But to me, “The Ick” was, and still is, “The Ick”.  And whether it was me being an immature weenie, or it was actually my subconscious telling me this isn’t right for me, I generally chose to listen when “The Ick” reared it’s ugly head.

Like recently: I got “The Ick” on coaching.

I don’t know why.  It seemed like the perfect fit. We got along well, it taught me things about myself, it was fun and rewarding. But something about it made me feel like I was dancing with my hands in my pockets.  I felt constrained.  It just wasn’t right.

So, I’m winding down my one-on-one coaching practice. And for once in my life, I’m not immediately jumping into something else.  I have a few ideas kicking around here and there, but for the time being, I’m just going to ruminate.  Because I like the word ruminate.

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I Get Around! Guest Posting Again!

  • Posted on March 17, 2011 at 7:26 am

Remember how I said that a katrillion people had been asking me to guest post? (okay, it may have been more like 3 or 4, but I like the sound of a katrillion).  Anyways…..today another one of my guest posts has made it to the cyberwaves!  Check out 10 Things I’ve Learned from Seeing a Shrink on my friend Josh Bowman’s blog, 10 Things I’ve Learned.  It’s March Madness over there and he’s got new guest posts every day.  I was honoured, delighted and generally tickled pink to be invited to join the madness! Thanks Josh!

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Time, Tunes and Toxic TV

  • Posted on March 14, 2011 at 10:26 am

So, I’ve been back in Vancouver for about 10 days now.  I was freakishly determined to come home and maintain the state of mind that I had rediscovered while away in Europe.  My relationship was feeling refreshed, my creativity was feeling juicy, my nerves were calm; but there was also a teeny part of me that was overwhelmingly paranoid that I would not be able to hold onto all of it.

The scary thing is (as I mentioned in my last post) that I don’t realize how swept up in the unimportant I get.  But without even realizing it, I start to feel agitated, obligated, pressured – by all number of things. From laundry to yoga to dirty dishes to rehearsals to those tv shows I PVR’ed – everything gradually becomes a huge burden and before you know it, I’ve transplanted myself back into the same rat race mentality that made me nuts to begin with.

And my life is NOT bad. In fact, my life is pretty fuckin’ great. I don’t have much to complain about.

But my problem is, I have a shit-ass relationship with Time. It’s like my hidden nemesis. I’m constantly worried about having too much time, or not enough time.  I’m never satisfied.  And I procrastinate by wasting my precious Time on useless crap like reruns of CSI or Friends or surfing Youtube for the latest video trends. And I get irritated.  And agitated. And I become obsessively protective over my “personal Time” which is a joke and a half because more often than not, my “personal Time” consists of plunking myself down in front of the tv or computer and numbing my brain. And my life somehow starts to be ruled by technology.  And I hate it.

I hate it.

When we were in Europe, we never turned on a tv.  All of our hotel rooms had one, but we never touched the remotes.  We came home and Charlie Sheen had gone nuts and we had no idea.

When we were in Europe, we didn’t use our iPhones. No obsessive email-checking every half an hour. No Facebook streaming when we got bored.  No tweeting about our every experience.

When we were in Europe, we used our laptops for 1-2 hours a day, at the most (we were both still “working” while on vacation, so this was somewhat necessary). But we didn’t obsess about replying to emails right away. We let the day go by and just enjoyed each city we were in and the company of eachother.

We were out there living our lives instead of living them virtually, or vicariously.

Moral of the story? Last night I baked cookies and explored new tunes for my iPod. I fed my soul with sugar and music instead of mind-numbing re-runs and gossip. This new habit might make me a bit fatter, but I’m willing to take that risk in exchange for peace of mind.

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