The Mind Craves Creativity
A messy shitpost of my brain spitballing: I need a new job, I’m in an existential crisis, and I haven’t even hit menopause yet. Not edited, but that's the charm.
A forty-hour work week with a twenty-four-hour break at the end is unethical. I’m quite physically and mentally through, and my mind is consistently pressed into a mindless sponge of desolation and deprivation.
I recently hit my one-month mark at my new job. It’s full-time. I wake up at 5:55 a.m., leave home around 6:30 a.m., clock in by 7:20, and don’t get back home until after five—usually, 5:20 pm.
It feels like hell.
Not only is it in a field I’ve never worked in (me and medicine don’t mix), but the monotony leaves me mentally hollow. Yet here I am, dilly dallying Monday - Friday, contemplating my life choices as I apply for my field and write chunks of my newest screenplay in between sparse moments of this thing called a ‘break’. My mind craves one thing, and one thing only: to create.
I’m an imaginative person—sometimes to a fault. Since I can remember, I’ve been able to daydream vivid images and cinematic “masterpieces” in the expansive imagination in the back of my mind. At a young age, I was enthralled with literature, films, photography, and the sounds of music prickling my eardrums.
I recall a time when I’d sit at my parents’ desktop and write ‘scripts’ on an application called Notepad—without even knowing what a screenplay was. I’d rush to complete my homework, just for the chance to get desktop privileges and create the world that I dreamed of. Even if it was pretty shitty, it was a time of creative expression, freedom, and the artistry blossoming within me.
Back then, I made documentaries about my neighborhood and these corny ass zombie Nerf video films that were aimed to ‘capture the essence of the walking dead’. I did this all with friends and kids from the neighborhood (Juan, I still hate you for deleting that footage — I told you very specifically not to hit the button, and what do you do? You hit the fucking button).
It was me. My Flip Video, and a fucking dream.
It’s odd. I find myself feeling jealous of my younger self—bitter even. Of course, she did nothing wrong—she was only a child who had acted upon her imagination. And I believe that’s the problem. That she had all the time in the world—all the freedom. There was no limit to her imagination, and I resent her for that. I got trapped in this mind-numbing cycle of stability, and now I've rid myself of this time and this energy to just ‘do’.
I’ve struggled with wanting freedom of expression, but also needing stability. Especially in this economy, where the cost of living rises by the day. I’m lucky to support myself—but at what cost? I still don’t like where I am, and my mind and soul keep telling me to go all in and not look back, but that’s when the doubts creep in.
I need to stop doubting myself.
But it’s hard not to when you know…
I don’t enjoy this version of me, the one that’s become restless, drained, and a hollow shell of the person she was before. Sometimes I even feel anger towards my soul for being so attached to art and wanting to be part of it so badly, when the world of art feels so uncertain. But at the same time…what else is there?
I guess the whole point of this post is that: if you’re a creative, or a creative undercover, stuck in a similar situation, we must create somehow, some way. Otherwise, we’ll fall into the trap of life without actually living.
The mind craves creativity. We should be at the beach, feeling the sun in our hair, thinking, jotting, plotting. Taking walks, talking to people, observing people—living. What makes us human is our creativity, imagination, and drive.
Not even AI can take that from us.
I’m going to take my own advice and figure out a way to leave this soul-crushing lifestyle. My brain will not rest or pause until I do. And I hope whoever reads this in a similar journey, that we can do this together and hold each other accountable.
I’m really challenging myself these next few weeks to have more time for it. So here’s my escape plan. My soul plan:
Write and tape pieces that feel like me. Not perfect, just true.
Contact a few friends for a feature I wrote. Create it.
Get headshots that are authentic.
Put together self-tapes and past short film footage, apply to agents, and let it go. If it’s meant for me, it will be.
Finish the second and third acts of my new pilot.
Immerse myself in theater, connect with creatives online, build community.
I’ll keep you updated on my art. Feel free to keep me updated on your soul plan in the comments; maybe there’s something we can collaborate on. In the meantime: be you, fuel your soul, and create.
Do not dim.
