My whole life seems to revolve around boxes these days. At home, there are boxes coming in, nearly every day, due to some strange confluence of factors I don’t fully understand. There are packing peanuts too, but I Just Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore (whoever invented packing peanuts should be shot). My workplace is moving, so there are boxes there too, sloppy specimens that shout, “Yuki made this!” — and, yes, the peanut guy’s fate goes double for packing tape’s inventor.
I feel like I once had a lot more to say. Lately, I sit down to write something down and end up with a headache. So I take the easy way out and post a photo or two, which can be nice, but on a regular basis probably as unsatisfying for you as for me.
Thing is, I can only do one thing at a time, creatively. If my mind’s in a visual mode, if I’m taking photos or drawing or painting, my writing shuts down. When I used to sing, I completely had no eye. I can’t even consider music or art when I’m writing and on a roll. Picture these as boxes, and well, my brain can only be in one at a time, and likes to get comfortable; these cycles last for weeks or months at a time. It’s not that I don’t want to be able to do these things simultaneously — I do, and it pulls at me because I want to do Everything All The Time — but haven’t figured out how.
So right now I’m clearly in a seeing world. I promised myself a couple months ago, when I got upped to a trial pro account at flickr, that I would prepare and upload at least one photo a day, which I’ve totally held to. I’m happy with the results, too, but truth is my fingers are itching to write. Two months to my thirtieth birthday; can I learn to juggle this late?
Anyone have any tips?