It's probably due time for a report on how my creative practice is going. Does it have structure? Is there a routine? Am I creating anything or being regularly creative? No. No. And no.
I'm finding myself more locked to the screen than ever. I am already feeling burnt out on Substack and feeling distracted by the new features rolling out. All of a sudden my desire to read what others are writing is on the floor. I had over extended my borrow of Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck from the library, so much that they put a $16.95 fee on my library account. I didn't even know our library did that anymore. I very much could not get into finishing a book in 2 weeks. That's how bad my demand avoidance is.
I had the wise idea to return the copy of Kairos in my possession, checking out another copy they had on the shelf. I will finish this book if it is the last thing I do. I want to finish this book. I am realizing that all of the brilliant ideas I read on here come from people who are reading. Not just reading, but watching films, scanning the news, talking with each other. People are going out! They're mingling with each other. I wonder if the reason I have felt I have nothing to say is due to my self isolation from the world, in which I am coming forth from gently as spring approaches.
Back to the screen: I cannot simply get rid of my technology. I am dreaming of getting rid of my phone. Of waking up and doing anything other than looking at a screen. Weeks ago I read
’s coverage of ’s day in the life and found myself bug-eyed that Sandy (who I follow and really profoundly enjoy) reads a printed piece of writing 5 minutes after waking up and then walks her dog and then begins work all within 1.5 hours of waking up. What is going on in my body that I have to stare at my phone for 30-50 minutes before I lift my body out of bed, but other people can do a little reading and just begin the day?I can’t say that technology is solely to blame, but it would be nice to be rid of it.
went above and beyond, getting rid of the laptop and committing to writing/emailing from the library. All while moving to a new city and trying to build a life without a strong technology presence. Why not? Why not really just lean in and resist? I am writing this on my laptop, which I got when I started grad school in 2021. A week after I ordered it, I was unpacking boxes of books at the bookstore I was working at and came across Why I am Not Going to By a Computer by Wendell Berry. I didn’t read it, but it felt like a personal jab from the cosmos to hold the red book in my hand.I think, too, of my beloved ex/bff, Mike Pellino, and his ever holding resistance to having a smart phone. From the time I met him in 2006 he had a shitty little flip phone with T9 text function. In 2022, he succumbed to the virtual world. The last man resisting gave in after all. He has an instagram now, which makes me feel like the world is upside down. If someone as against the use of technology as Mike Pellino can get suckered into it, how am I suppose to claw my way out?
Lately I've been lingering on the thought that opting out of M*ta platforms is just further isolating me. Instagram is historically bad for me. It really peaked both my gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia, caused me to engaged inauthentically with others, and left me feeling often unseen and unappreciated (what's new??). I think that same part of me is the part of me that believes I will never have a creative practice, whether that be writing, painting, making music, or some other thing that I could let be my whole world if it weren't for the dopamine hits received from digital exchanges. The other side of the thought is that I should have an Instagram, because then I’d be further social, and perhaps even then further knowledgable and engaged with what’s going on in the world. It isn’t sustainable to be in such a liminal social despair.
I miss the wind. I miss sun on my skin. Winter has been long as hell here in Wisconsin. Maybe not, but it always feels like a smothering of the spirit. I keep thinking about how precious my time is here and how I spend it glued to a computer. My body feels the repercussions of this. I am stuck between the desire to be unburdened by the screen and the hypnotizing affects of being all-in on the digital experience. I don't wrestle in the push and pull of that. I let myself be frozen.
One morning this week, as I realized I have a wide open schedule today, I thought about how I should have a routine like other people. How I should have a list of things to do. Lying fetal on my floral lavender comforter, with my dog at my feet, my mind whispered: You wanted to go slow. A quick flashback to years of constantly going, moving, doing, participating, scheduling, jumping from thing to fucking thing. What is this weird guilt in not being able to forge routine? My routines were previously dictated by timed commitments: showing up to a 9-5, or serving at a restaurant, or band practice, or playing a show, or going to a show, and on and on and on. I quit my job in community mental health because all the going had caused me harm. Here I am trying to find something to go, go, go about when I need desperately to remind myself that I intended to go slow.
There's a great discomfort in not having what is societally accepted as solid plans or routines. So to sooth that discomfort I come on my little or big screen to look at all of your routines. To further reinforce the message that without routines, I am doing something wrong. I am not good enough or focused enough or worth enough. But I know that is not true. I know better. It's the anxious brain on a playground, with freedom to roam and destroy and distract.
In honor of my needing to be gentle with myself during the struggle of finding my creativity again, I present to you a list of things, moments, and whatever else that fans the creative flame:
Connecting with other therapists to talk about practice, alternative approaches, and decolonization of therapy.
Checking out books from my public library so I can start exploring a reading list for my multiracial grief writing offering (still in development!).
Attending the screening of Friendship at the Wisconsin Film Festival was a tense humorous venture into men making friends later in life. Tim Robinson really knows how to make us grit our teeth and flinch, the human embodiment of second hand embarrassment.
Finishing my spouse’s Hanstholm Sweater. During the sweater knitting process I consumed two seasons of Yellowjackets, the limited series Apple Cider Vinegar, and 24 feature films. That’s a lot of hours. Not a single stitch was dropped!
The Hanstholm Sweater, which I knit with my own two hands. Knitting my first pair of socks from pompom’s Ready Set Socks using malabrigo sock in some blue that I cannot recall. I’ve had to rip out and adjust to DPNs. Determined to learn, but I hate them! Edit: as of this share being published, I have ripped out the sock twice and no sock currently exists, but I will begin again.
The first 60 degree day in South Central Wisconsin has arrived, and it is my goal to use my slow down time to cultivate the small patch of land we have in our back yard into a space where we would want to spend time.
Having a queer therapist as my therapist, while being a therapist, to reflect on gender, identity, and the barriers that prevent me from taking action has been life changing.
Doja Cat’s Kiss Me More blasting in the coffee shop. Be real, it was a time! It is still a vibe.
Leila Chatti’s Deluge. A collection of works written around a serious medical condition where she experienced hemorrhaging. From ‘Mary Speaks’:
Perhaps I’d have been
better offto be wary, but I’d been waiting so long
to hear God speak—I hadn’t thought to thinkof what he might tell me
Planning for future writings here, it’s time to get real. I am looking forward to really showing up with something creative in the next few weeks. It’s only been two weeks since I ended my employment. Of course things don’t happen over night. Now that I am on the other side of the transition, I am feeling eager to engage with the side of me that feels lost and forgotten. What are you remembering or recalling about your old self that you’d like to tap into once more?
What if looking at your phone for 30 minutes in the morning *is* a routine, not the lack of one? And if you don’t like that particular routine, slowly transfer that time to something you do want to do first upon waking up? What gets me out of bed is the promise of drinking coffee and staring out the window without goals, but I had to gradually (gently) erode my phone habit to do so. Love following you on here, Alej!
First, I’m deeply impressed/inspired by that sweater! Second, I find myself saying “I need to feel the sun again” much more often than I say “I need the stimulation and/or motivation I used to get from IG, no matter how sick it made me every time I got on the platform.” For me there’s a professional pressure; I should be on IG, or be more active on Bluesky if I want to sell either of my books, but the truth is I don’t want to sell them. I’m just happy for the 40 or so people who have bought one or both, and the 2 or 3 who encourage me to keep writing. The other piece was my various communities, but I always just wanted the chance to engage with them in person and the digiverse will never really be anything but a pale substitute for that connection. But oh I relate to the temptation.