I’m lacking inspiration lately. Seriously so.
I choose to blame at least 40-45% on my car.
Last year, I bought a brand new car. So brand new that it had never even been driven off the lot. I have had a long and tumultuous history with cars over my years of driving, so to have something new and pretty but most importantly WORKED, was like, all my adult dreams had come true.
I was mostly thrilled because it had the AUX and the Bluetooth capabilities which meant that I could listen to more than what was just on the radio. But, silly, foolish little me. How could I think it would be so easy? The Bluetooth doesn’t work. The AUX plug, doesn’t work. Sometimes, not even the radio works. (And where would I ever get the idea that dealership would actually DO something about it? Stupid idea, Erin. Stu-pid.)
There are practical reasons why this is upsetting to me. I mean, we chose a car that had the Bluetooth option because having a deaf daughter, it’s pertinent that I have two hands available. One on the steering wheel, (you know, so we don’t crash and die), and one to sign back and forth to her, should she need communication (which, she’s a human…so that’s inevitable.)
But speaking in the inspirational context, it’s frustrating to not have those things for music. I hate sitting in silence, most of the time. Here and there, yes it’s refreshing just to hear the sound of the wind coming through the open windows or the laughter and conversation of whoever is accompanying me. But I n e e e e d that time to zone out. Only 8% of what’s played on the radio is worth listening to, so there’s a reason I spend a stupid amount of money on iTunes, buying music that inspires me, that speaks to me, that makes me think, that makes me create.
The other 55-60% of what’s taken my inspiration away, well, I have yet to find the culprit.
I’m just so damn sick of staring at the ceiling. That lonely little silhouette that lives on the right side of my brain is just itching to get up and move. But the left side of my brain is like, “no.”
And then I stare at the closet that holds my drawing utensil’s, I think about reaching into my nightstand to pull out one of the umpteen books I’ve bought recently. I consider pulling out my easel and painting something or cross stitching a new pattern into something I can hang on the wall. But I don’t. Because there’s nothing up there in my idea factory. There’s just emptiness and self doubt and “it wouldn’t look good even if I started something so I’ll just wait for a good idea to come along… now where’s the remote?”