Expressive devotee
I'm unemployed! Time to get to work.
I tend to be happiest while working. Not in the sense of making money or gaining fame, but the persistent act of noticing and articulating what I see. It’s a full-body experience, and the output matters less than its attempt. Writing feels more natural than other expressions, though on occasion I’ll envision something like music or dance. The goal is for my words to take you to the same place as other art forms, were the idea conveyed through them instead.
Despite knowing I am happiest while working, I used to struggle to make time to think and write. The fear of being viewed as odd would drive me to socialize when I would rather wander around mulling ideas and phrases in my head. I remember being “caught” on one such walk years ago by an acquaintance who spotted me from down the street before I looked up and saw her. My face hadn’t had a chance to rearrange itself, and she said I seemed really… focused, or something, and asked if I was okay.
I wish I could recall what I’d been fixating on, though a safe bet would be in the realm of social dynamics or what constitutes an acceptable life. The good news is, an idea is never lost. It will re-emerge from the mind’s recesses and become fodder for new work. These things we think of as discreet projects—a book, a movie, an album—are connected within us below the surface like mushroom mycelium or fireweed roots. No idea, however fleeting, is ever truly gone.
I say this in part to self-soothe for all the time I’ve spent not working on projects that I consider to be the true work. Time when I attempted to make money at various jobs or live a normal life instead of sitting alone at a desk. Of course, we are communal creatures, and contributing to the social fabric is a must. But I’m learning that my needs are met through a smaller circle than I might expect. Currently, my romantic partnership and a few friends, many of whom also require solitude to create and reflect, are more than filling my cup.
Of course, if all ideas are connected, the time I spent on other things will end up informing my work. And the time I spend writing and thinking, though it may appear antisocial, serves my relationships too. I make work to be viewed and consumed as a way of transformative connection. Some of us have ideas that we struggle to convey through conversation alone. Instead, we need a third thing that translates me to you. The more my relationships resemble shared projects to which we both contribute, the more at home I feel. I am happiest while working, so long as it’s work I choose. What a gift to be doing that, here, with you.
-Julia
