Just-for-the-Sake-of-Creative
Creative
Please enjoy a running list of my creative endeavors.
I took a pottery class.
I wrote a book of poetry.
I wrote a Modern Love essay. (It was never published.)
I — briefly — got really into making collages.
I took guitar lessons.
I took piano lessons.
I took voice lessons.
I filled a notebook full with unfinished songs.
I took a jewelry-making class. I finished two silver rings.
I wrote ¾ of a play.
I started my memoir.
I hosted an indie radio show.
I learned one of Beyoncé’s dance routines.
I own four film cameras.
I own one digital camera.
I tried, and utterly failed, to learn how to draw American Traditional tattoos.
I recorded a podcast with a professional magician.
I did one, successful, magic trick.
I started an Instagram account dedicated to finding the best worst dive bar martini.
I started a TikTok account dedicated to finding moments of awe in the everyday.
I wrote an animated short film.
I continue to write and experiment feverishly.
I do not know what — if any — of these endeavors will stick. I am starting to think that’s the point.