Nothing to say
Ever since grade school, when my teacher (for those who follow my Dutch blog, yes, it was the same
asshat teacher as in this story) told me he thought my “write and draw every day” project was “forced”, I have gone against the notion of “art and creativity are ~inspired~ activities that come to you” or similar crap: it’s work, people. If I would only put pen to paper if I was feeling ~inspired~, I would hardly ever write anything ever. Or do anything else, really. I mean, despite people thinking otherwise, I am not joking when I say my (oh, how I hate that word) hobbies are sleeping, showering and doing as little as possible.
That is why I had planned to get back to my “work” ASAP: I am always afraid that once I stop doing things, I will realise that it is all futile and why bother and just quit. See also: how I got through most of my studies. Or my life, really. Sad, I know. So when the deadline for The Sketchbook Project 2016 came up, my first instinct was to do what I always do: just go for it and finish it, in any way possible.
However, thankfully/unfortunately, I am not sure which yet, my current situation made it impossible for me to do so: not only was I physically tired (visiting on average 4 doctors a week for 6 weeks will do that to you), but I was also emotionally/mentally exhausted and on top of that, had nothing to say. And this time it was not the regular “I have nothing to say but if I keep pushing I’ll come up with something”: having seen nothing but doctors, hospitals and bus 172 for weeks on end apparently does not make for creative fuel. So I let the deadline fly by.
That was almost a month ago. I am hoping that, now that the doctor’s visits are slowly becoming less frequent and I am starting to slowly feel better physically and mentally (because despite my tendency to always go “I’m ok! I’m fine! Nothing to see here!”, I am really having a hard time with, well, everything in the last few weeks), I will soon regain my “something to say”.