It was one of those days today, I think. You know the ones. I started my workday with a frustrating argument over something that seems obvious. I then went out to grab a sandwich, and the cheese was moldy. Next up, I made what I thought was a successful call to a child's insurance company. More on that later. A long and arduous meeting with some emotional folks, then finally I could go get that sandwich replaced. The coffee shop was really nice about it, but there's just no way that second sandwich was going to taste good, you know? I then sat down and (figuratively) held a barely tween-aged girl's hand as a lawyer sat her down and convinced her to sue the State of Oregon. He had a point, but damn, what a weird and depressing situation. Is that really my job? About a quarter to five, after another child refused to meet with me for therapy, I was feeling more than done for the day, and thinking about getting out of there, when my phone rang. It was a psychiatrist, who had heard from a mom, who had gotten a call from that insurance company. They weren't paying anymore, and she had to drive two hours each way over some mountains to pick up her kid tonight. Um...what? Last I heard was "we'll pay for another week in residential treatment, and call us then to talk about more." That was this very morning. After many frantic phone calls, I found out that mom can wait until tomorrow to come get the kid. Whew, I guess.
So after all that, I decided to stop in at Hopworks for a pint and a slice. I snuck in just under the wire for happy hour and had an oh-so-tasty Secession Cascadian Dark Ale (it's hoppy like an IPA, but dark like a porter), and headed home. It's so hard to feel inspired after all that, on a late January day that started and ended foggy and chilly (it was actually sunny and not too cold in the middle of the day). It was dark by a little after five, completely dark by the time I left work at almost six. And now I'm sitting at home without an inspiration in my head.
Which leads me, in a roundabout way, to my thesis for this post. I guess where I'm going with all this is that what I take in every day is a huge influence on what I put back out. Crappy workday in...blog post full of complaining out. Chilly, dark January in...bleak and tired laziness out. Time to put some effort into taking some really good stuff in. Last night was a start--I went to the local science museum's grownups-only evening, which was a ton of fun. Tomorrow night is a show of bands I'm really looking forward to, and Saturday night is a party. Sunday, maybe another show. And I may circle back to this for a while, because it still haunts me a bit: Creating something every day is perhaps not the best goal for me. I always wondered about those artists, of any medium, whose lives were solely about their art. Shouldn't art be about life? If your life is your art, and your art is about life, eventually your art is about...art. Which becomes more and more removed from life, alienating all others except other artists in the same position you're in. I'm not in any way an artist, but many of the things I do require creativity and flexibility. So perhaps the most important thing I can do sometimes, especially this time of year, is recharge my batteries, take in more life.
Things that recharge me right now: Excellent food, beer, wine, spirits. Trying new things. Getting out. Passionate conversation. Sex. Sunshine. Exercise, especially when it's nice enough that it can happen outdoors (hell, who am I kidding?...that's the only way I get any). Doing new things. Live music (as always). Successes. Little successes. Tiny, itty-bitty, almost invisible successes that only make a difference to me. Pampering myself. Being appreciated.
Perhaps my belated New Year's resolution is the resolution I've been trying to put my finger on for years: I create myself every single day. If I fail to do that, I can't create anything else.
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