Creatively Challenged

I have such talented friends. Painters, Sculptors, Photographers, Editors, Designers, Actors, Musicians, Drag Queens... the list goes on... into tiny micromanaged categories. However, when I think of me and what I do I hardly consider myself an artist or even creative. I've been beating myself up recently for being unable to find enjoyment in anything creative- save writing. This contradiction has not gone overlooked. Writing is creating, I suppose. I don't understand my ambivalent reality at all, and I don't like it and I'm always trying to refute its unstable implications. I rarely draw except when I doodle which I haven't done in months. I don't make things unless that counts putting together a sandwich. My hands are tools I stare at in dismay wondering where in my life they surrendered to a life of banality. I don't own a camera but use Instagram like it's no body's business, but I would hardly call myself a photographer. I've been feeling less enthused with the idea of being called a "writer," for the simple, narcissistic fact that it just doesn't seem cool anymore. When the age of the internet began so did the fall of the writer. Bloggers took over the internet and made actual writers redefine themselves and what it was to be a writer. They are now all unemployed... or working terrible retail jobs... Jk. I have no idea (but probably). Then again, what is a blogger? A writer. As defined in the dictionary a writer is: writ·er/ˈrītər/Noun
1. A person who has written a particular text. In that case there is no difference between a blogger and a writer. Oh, but there is... there has to be or my efforts have all been in vain. Is blogging going to be my life? Should I succumb to the inevitability that sharing my ridiculous thoughts on the internet will eventually be my career. I can't. Oh, but I can. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN? This whole argument is a plethora of insane discrepancies and unfair assumptions.

I used to relish in all types of peoples' indulgences in the internet. I used to take in all the wonderful excitement that buzzed heavily around twitter and facebook, and friendster (is that even real?), and the list goes on. Now, I feel like the internet took something away from me. A solid voice.
In this constantly changing environment with the amount of turn-over in trends and the decreasing attention span of the nation it's terrifying to think of where I'll fit in. If I'll fit in. How I'll fit in.

I'm rambling again. It's becoming a horrible habit.

Apologies.




I'm out.