It's funny you should mention that. My blog is a craft (and art) blog - I position myself as someone who makes things. Making things is part of who I am. I need to create. It's a fire in my soul, a need that never goes away.
You'd think, then, that I'd be making things all the time. But I'm not. Oh, how I wish I was! It's a source of great concern for me, sometimes even distress. I have a great urge to make something, to paint something, to write something. But RIGHT NOW I have to go to work and work all day. But RIGHT NOW I'm dead tired and I have to sleep. But RIGHT NOW I have to exercise, because I do want to lose weight, don't I? RIGHT NOW I have to go and fulfill a social obligation or do housework or go grocery shopping, etc. etc. At times I can work myself into a frenzy of frustration and anxiety. I've felt this way ever since I started working full-time, a bit over 3 years ago. I have a lot more money now, but a lot less time. Having a lot more money is reassuring, but losing all of that time is something I'm having trouble coming to terms with. It's a small consolation to be able to buy handmade products and support people who are living the dream of making full-time. But after a week of working hard every day, then flopping onto the couch exhausted every night, not having made anything, that pressure starts to build up inside me and I start to get grumpy. Mega grumpy!, as my poor boyfriend can attest.
So if I whinge that I'm feeling too anxious to drive today, and I take my knitting in the car with me in the passenger seat, it's not because I was trying to get out of driving. The fact that I needed to knit was partly what was making me anxious in the first place.
If I flip through my personal journal and nearly every entry ends with "and I have to stop now because I have to f@!!king go to work, grrr!", it's because my need to write is so strong that it conflicts disastrously with my need to be a good girl and turn up to work on time.
If I don't hear what you're saying because I have my head in the cupboard hunting through my yarn stash, or a doodle is wending its way through my head as well as onto the paper, then I'm sorry. But it's who I am.
Make. I have a confession to make. The last thing I made was Corn Dogs. I'd never had them before, so I went to the supermarket, bought some mini frankfurts, and made corn dogs. I dipped the franks in the oozing yellow batter, getting it all over my fingers, and I fried them in oil. And then I dipped them in tomato sauce and I ate 'em! On the one hand, I'm a little ashamed of eating something so unhealthy, but on the other hand, I think it's a good sign. It was like a mini creative play-date, in food form. It means my sense of child-like adventure, while sometimes forced into a corner, is still alive and kicking.
I wasn't planning to blog about the corn dogs, so I didn't take a picture of them before I nommed them. Here's an artists' (e.g. my) impression:
Not very good at digital art yet!