rachelhartleysmi
Geographical Cure?
Space and place matters ... to an extent. As a writer/creator, I've tried cozying up to more than one desk in my day only to slink back to the safety of the couch where I can drift in and out of the dramas on the TV and the internet while I "work." And so I fail to take whatever I'm doing seriously, professionally, badass-fully. And so here I sit. Depressed for the last four years. What I have always needed (even more than my own office space) is self-love once I'm sitting there so that I might stay. I require courage and determination, and without a clearer vision of the future I have lacked the ability to conjure any of it. So I've tried cleaning up Jo's old room. It's a cold little room back by the washer and dryer; the ceiling is lopsided and low; the walls are an odd shade of tan, like baby poop. My pre-teen left her "mark" all over the walls with chalk-drawings and paint-peeling Skotch tape; there are stains on the carpet. This "new" desk of mine is old and small and made of cheap particle board (it may even be moldy), but it's all I have for now. I want to believe I deserve to stay at it. I deserve to create, and everything I create matters. No matter the place. Today -- day one -- I stayed at it and I created. I'd like to thank Bill Murray ... ;)
Geographical Cure?
Space and place matters ... to an extent. As a writer/creator, I've tried cozying up to more than one desk in my day only to slink back to the safety of the couch where I can drift in and out of the dramas on the TV and the internet while I "work." And so I fail to take whatever I'm doing seriously, professionally, badass-fully. And so here I sit. Depressed for the last four years. What I have always needed (even more than my own office space) is self-love once I'm sitting there so that I might stay. I require courage and determination, and without a clearer vision of the future I have lacked the ability to conjure any of it. So I've tried cleaning up Jo's old room. It's a cold little room back by the washer and dryer; the ceiling is lopsided and low; the walls are an odd shade of tan, like baby poop. My pre-teen left her "mark" all over the walls with chalk-drawings and paint-peeling Skotch tape; there are stains on the carpet. This "new" desk of mine is old and small and made of cheap particle board (it may even be moldy), but it's all I have for now. I want to believe I deserve to stay at it. I deserve to create, and everything I create matters. No matter the place. Today -- day one -- I stayed at it and I created. I'd like to thank Bill Murray ... ;)