Essay 4: Creation

What does knowing what to do with yourself look like? How will I look at protesting and socialism when my frontal lobe is fully developed? Am I this idealistic because of my frontal lobe still developing?

I organized myself today, which was a strange mix of being able to use markers for something useful and trying to deal with all the information I had to write down for the next four months. I am overwhelmed and it’s only the second day of classes.

I don’t want to do anything but sleep at the moment.

I just want the week to go by faster. I want to get all my syllabi because I want to know I have everything. I get anxious when I know something is coming but I don’t actually have the information yet.

I would have loved to have written about something more “romantic,” but I am trying to take to heart to just pour out what’s in my mind for this challenge. My mind is not always romantic, or just, or peaceful. Essays are rough. Writing is tough. There is a need for my body to write. When I get an idea, I think about it so much that I don’t focus on anything else because I cannot forget the damn idea. There is a yearning to create for me. There is a yearning to fall in love with an idea that I can commit to it. I am not a solitary kind of person, and I am not sure about spending time by myself with an idea/story for too long, but honestly the process excites me. Writing takes practice to be completely cliche. Some of the most helpful tips I’ve read:

• write 10 minutes a day
• read like a writer, write like a reader
• let the flow go

My best poems have come from me physically not being able to stop. The idea takes over. The idea is not done with me until it is done. It does not take me into consideration whatsoever. It runs and runs and runs until I am panting and my hand is cramping but I endure for the sake of creation.

“The opposite of war isn’t peace, it’s creation!” (RENT The Musical)

The only time I know what to do with myself is in this flow, and I do it for free. Poetry is Not A Luxury (I always think of you, Audre Lorde) for me, yet this flow is usually done when I have “free time.” Part of my metal health depends on making time to allow the flow to come if it would like. I can’t not write. When I am up worrying at 1 or 2 am, I have written letters that I will Never Send. My ideas accessorize my notebook margins in class. Writing holds on tight, and Never would I like to let it go.