As a kid I had no trouble playing on my own; there was always an idea or seven to explore. I remember the thrill it gave me as a pre-teen to sit down with a notebook and a pencil and get the story in my head out. My dad was forced to read one of these creations of mine the very exact moment I got it done. Hearing him tell me my story was “pretty good” has stuck with me all these years.

What do you mean I published my first blog post of the year in October? What do you mean I haven’t filled a single page in my sketchbook? That I’ve entirely fallen off my journaling habit, even the one that would require just a few lines about my day every night? That I’ve only read eight books all year? Truly shocking.

I will admit outright that I’m extremely hard on myself. No one expects more of me than I do. My life turned upside down not that long ago, I’m trying to get used to maintaining my friendships from a distance, create a routine in a new space, see my parents, keep my screen time manageable, exercise and be a good teacher… It never feels like I’m doing enough.

And it’s not that I’m worried about the quality of output of my creative exploits because I’m not. I’m worried because there is not a single idea in my brain. I look at my beautiful journals and feel no desire to flip the page and make something new. The luxury set of drawing pencils I got from my parents for Christmas still sits mostly unused. Even looking at the work of my favourite creatives online stirs no inspiration in me. 

I imagine this is what it feels like to be a clothing item at the thrift store. You still remember being in use and bearing the physical marks of it, but faced with the reality of hanging day after day on a hanger, sparking no interest in passers-by.

Now you see??? I can’t even come up with a solid metaphor anymore. 

The worst part is that I know exactly what I would need to do to get out of this funk. I’d need to start making things; small things, ugly things, random things I’d never show anyone. I strongly believe in motivation and drive being created while already in motion, and not so much in waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But what do I continue to do? Well, wait for the perfect moment, of course! Wait for the morning I wake up and feel a burning desire to create.

Here’s to hoping one of these days I’m going to get tired of my own shit and get to it. 

– All my love, Ansku

PS: The time of year we’re currently in is most certainly not helping… I would like to see the sun.