Discovering Myself As A Creative
While walking through Staples one day, after passing a stack of fold-up poster boards laying against a wall, I excitedly said to Hobson something along the lines of "I remember those! I used to love using them for projects back in grade school..." His response was "yeah, not me..."
We continued our wandering through the office supplies store. Passing the grand assortment of notebooks in the following aisle, my next comment was "oh, I loved those back-to-school days when I got to go shopping for school supplies!" Once again, Hobson replied with an "eh, not me." This pattern of conversation repeated more than a few times before we exited the store into the biting Connecticut November wind.
I promise - there's a point to this little rambling.
During this little outing, I had a brief realization. At some point in the store, I also mentioned to Hobson that I was surprised I hadn't considered myself a creative person earlier in my life.
I've always been the girl of logic... or at least I thought. Entering college, I was a communications major with the goal of learning the ropes of television journalism and becoming the next Diane Sawyer. Big dreamer, I was. I still am, but the dreams are different. During my sophomore year of college, I took a cultural anthropology class that completely altered my outlook of our world. Namely, the fact that it isn't "our" world. I became an avid believer that it does not belong to us. I became an environmental advocate and ate up the opportunity to learn of new cultures, new peoples, new places around the world, and the ideologies that stemmed from these places.
So, I did the only logical thing to do (ha!) and switched majors halfway through my sophomore year. I didn't know what I would do with a degree in Anthropology/Sociology, but I loved what I was learning. My eyes were being opened like they never were before, and truthfully, as long as I graduated with a degree, I didn't care if my course of study was logical. As long as I had a diploma in my hand at the end of it all, I wanted to spend the remainder of my college years burying my nose in books about people in the farthest corners of the world and keeping my mind open.
Reading and writing have been a strongsuit of mine since elementary school. While I never found a terrible amount of joy in writing about topics which weren't my choice, I enjoyed absolutely every anthropology paper I wrote in college (and there were many). When I can write about my passions, writing is my therapy.
Upon graduation, what my career would be was still beyond me. When I was asked that exact question, I had no certain answer to give.
I've always been a girl with many passions, but writing was something I'd never considered could be my career. And as I've hinted at before, this all changed when I met Hobson.
A journalism major and freelance writer, he introduced me to this creative world. After much trial and error with many writing outlets, too many crumpled paper-filled trash cans, frustrations and successes, late nights of wondering where my life was going to take me and conversations of big dreams, I realized I love to write. What I wanted to do was be a writer. Full-time. I finally had an answer when people asked.
Until recently though, I never thought of myself as a creative person. I considered myself a writer but did not consider writing a creative career. That walk through Staples that day changed my mind. I cannot draw, paint or sketch to save my life (my sister got all the artisitic talent). So how am I still creative? Well, I write this blog, which requires a tremendous amount of creative juices that only my fellow bloggers will understand. I dabble in photography, I have a new-found passion for design, I write new content nearly every hour of my life, and I cannot count the number of times a day Hobson and I openly chat about our new dreams.
So, I'm a creative and that's my story. Granted, I create mainly via words, but I find myself with a constant urge to add even more creative outlets into my life. It's a late realization but one I'm so excited to have made. I am anxious, scared and overjoyed all at the same time to see where my creative journey takes me.
That's my story. It's not revolutionary and won't go down in history books, but it is a story I can call my own. It is a story which many lessons were learned and one where I discovered and re-discovered myself more times than I can count on my two hands.
Thanks for sticking with me through this little discovery of myself as a creative! I sincerely hope you continue to travel this path with me.