DAY1 - Where is the Milk
Today I noticed that i need something more. It's early January though and the first day back at work so i'm guessing that a lot of people are feeling like this. But I have been thinking like this for quite a while, it just feels stronger today. I love my job, i'm a designer, I get to be creative everyday. I wonder, though, am I being creative in the right way, in the way i want/need/was born to be creative? I have a Constant creative urge to be more, to do more, to produce more, to be better, to be the best - to be good at some things and great at other things. I suddenly feel that I am competent at everything but great at nothing.
When I was a kid I loved drawing and sketching. I would constantly draw comic book superheroes, footballers, anything I was interested in, and became really good at it. It was my sole creative outlet. I eventually discovered other creative outlets such as guitar playing and songwriting. I dove head first into this creative outlet and became a good songwriter, drawing took a back seat. Then I discovered graphic design, dove in, songwriting became less regular. And so it goes. I'm a competent graphic designer in most areas of design but great at no particular area. That seems to be the source of my 'urges'. I have a need to be great at something - that something that will bring success, and get me to where I need/want/am supposed to be.
How do I find it? Where is it and what is it? I know it's there. It's like looking directly into the fridge but unable to see the large container of milk I need for my tea.
Today I noticed that I need to FOCUS on what's in the fridge before I find the milk.
DAY 2 - A Gentle Breeze
Today I noticed a gentle breeze………………………….Little gusts danced on my face, around the edges of my nose, sweeping north fiercely between the soft crevasse between eyebrow and eyelid, before delicately turning the corner to push hair away from my ear. It’s welcoming and needed. The night is cold but inside I’m burning, helplessly burning – the unknown stokes the fire with fear, anxiety, worry.
Walking helps, walking fast to embellish the effects of the cool breeze. Hearing the rapid footsteps…counting them, drowns out the bustling city suburb sounds and serves as a rhythmic beat to my battered thoughts. Thoughts battered by the same feelings that stoke the fire. A relentless Onslaught, creating a strangely soothing cocoon. Surgery should be a couple Of hours, maybe three. It makes no difference as time appears to have frozen. This moment feels like it will never end. What must she be dreaming?
My battered thoughts, her frenzied dreams. I arrive back where I started, At the hospital door. I’m ready….
DAY 3 - The Sleep of sleeps
Today I noticed the difference a good night sleep makes…..
Lately I haven’t been sleeping well. A 6 month old baby will help you out with that. Last night I checked into the spare room for the night after making sure all was ok at reception(My wife). I hadn’t much baggage, just a Bruce Springsteen autobiography and my clothes for work the next day. I took the stairs as I tend to avoid elevators (Our house doesn’t have one). On entering the room I noticed a strange odour so I called down to reception. SHIT! Too loud, nearly woke the baby. (mental note; Don’t shout when baby is in bed). I checked the sheets which have a ‘lived in feel’. I quell the urge to call reception. I slip into bed and read a few pages of my book. It’s good but I’m tired so the words start to drop off the page, meaning I’ll have to read them again next time. I pull the duvet around my neck and cocoon myself in preparation for that elusive sleep. I sleep the sleep of the King of sleeps. Morning arrives, I shower, check out (Kiss reception – I mean the wife!) and go to work. Magic.