Even now as I try to write this blog, things keep pulling me away. Articles, stupid and informative. Noises, loud and soft. Issues, big and small.
I’ve been programmed to keep my eye on a prize that I don’t want. Thanks to that programming, I have some mutant form of adult ADHD, brought on by years of procrastination, overstimulation, and worst of all, keep-what-you-love-on-the-back-burner-while-you-take-care-of-what-you-need’ism.
Now that I’ve gotten the requisite education and some experience under my belt, I’m trying to unleash my long-abandoned creativity into outlets that will do something for someone somewhere. Unfortunately, thanks to those multiple years of different “You have to be responsible!” messages shoved down my throat, I’ve kind of lost the art of making the internal external. I’ve actually forgotten how to do the only things I’m good at doing.
I am not good at selling things because I can’t fake my way into believing in mediocre, half-functioning products. I am not good at talking to strangers who don’t automatically understand things. I am not good at kissing ass, pedaling junk, or sitting inside a claustrophobia-inducing cubicle in front of a computer, overusing that devil contraption called the telephone.
I am good at writing… most days. I am good at memorizing useless facts. I am good at creating weird little crafts. I am good at planning things that are fun, organizing items before they are a mess, and endless other “non-important” tasks. However, I live in a world that doesn’t grant those things merit. In fact, this world stifles them.
I won’t say that it’s not fair, but it is certainly counterproductive to live in a society where we scold people for wanting to do things outside the box. Sure, we award that pesky 1% for their films, television shows, music, clothing lines, etc., but the rest of us are expected to fall in line and work ourselves to death in an impossibly dull job. Even worse off are the people in countries who have two equally dire options and will never know the joy of doing something they love, not even for a fleeting moment.
This has to change. We have to fight against the powers who dictate our happiness. We have to let it be known that we aren’t okay doing what we’ve been assigned. We have to remind them that we’re individuals who long to simply be.
So I’ll begin my part of that great journey. I’ll start the long and arduous process of retraining myself to think how I was literally born how to think. Because I find myself in this time of unjust prejudice against art, at least as a serious subject, I have to push myself harder than I ever have before to reclaim the mind in my own head.
It sounds like a paradox. If I’m already me, it should be easy to stay me, right? No. It’s going to be insanely difficult to reattain the creative programming that I was lucky enough to have at birth. It’s been so stifled by so many that the hours I spend relearning my own brainwaves will be endless. I will have to structure my life rigidly around retraining my brain not to be a boring corporate asshole.
And you know what? I’ve never been more excited about a new job in my whole life. Me, meet me. I’ll be here forever.