the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
I’ve read a quote several places over the last few weeks which says that the most precious gift we have is our time. This is true. Everyone has one go…that’s it. Fast forward to vacation. One that I really needed from a high-stress corporate position. No checking email, no checking calendar. Nothing. This is pretty easy to do since I have practiced this in the past. I take the email and calendar icons from my phone desktop so I am not tempted by numbers of unanswered email to take a peek.
Then, I focus the moment at hand. With family. With friends. It works. Sometimes I even forget my damned work password. No, I mean REALLY forget it. I have to sit and think for a bit or rely on a note I’ve tucked away for this purpose.
Over vacation, there was down time from activities. Lucy, my teenager, needed her text/messaging time with her peeps. So Stan and I scanned the interweb, answered Facebook posts and goofed off laughing at silliness and YouTube at the end of each day. Our feet hurt from about 5 miles of walking a day, so we welcome the vegetative electronic state before bed.
In comes Willa this week with the article, How to Save Your Soul: Willa Cather on Productivity vs. Creativity, Selling Out, and the Life-Changing Advice That Made Her a Writer
Your mind becomes a card-catalogue of notes that are meaningless except as related to their proper subject.–Cather
Willa Cather was one of the writers I studied at the University. She and Theodore Drieser to were two I remembered well after graduation. I discovered them both in an awesome English Literature class. The professor really wanted discussion. After long silences, I’d get bored and throw out anything, even way-out-there statements to get reactions. He freaking LOVED it. Not many notes from him, which was nice. I could also write outrageous papers and not be docked points.
“It’s so foolish to live (which is always trouble enough) and not to save your soul. It’s so foolish to lose your real pleasures for the supposed pleasures of the chase — or the stock exchange.” — Cather
Creating has always been a part of my life. Whether poetry, short stories, and now blogs, to visual art, it is what makes me happy. I know, as the oft quoted phrase, that comparison is the thief of joy. There internet is full of writers of all sorts. I am one of the gianormous blogger crowd. One of the millions of voices out there. Even with networking, I have only few who read my blog posts. What I say is said by others. Others I know work on books, but I have no real understanding of crafting a novel. No ideas. What I post is small, tiny, minuscule bites of a life.
Of course there are interesting people and interesting things in the day’s work, but it’s all like going round the world in a railway train and never getting off to see anything closer. I have not a reportorial mind — I can’t get things in fleeting glimpses and I can’t get any pleasure out of them. And the excitement of it doesn’t stimulate me, it only wears me out. — Cather
Not enough creativity. Not enough finances to retreat from corporate life to write anything ‘novel’.
So back to the grind it is tomorrow,