Today is frustrating. Today is the day that an annual literary conference is held where I work. Creative people will gather and discuss the writing process, hear readings, attend workshops, and be surrounded by others who understand the very odd world of writing. I, on the other hand, will sit at my desk and do the work that is the least creative of all. I’ll watch the people enter the hall smiling and excited with the possibilities of the day. It’s frustrating because I feel as if I live in a world that my creative side must be hidden, a dark insane secret. Very few know that I yearn to write, that I want to be a writer. I want to perfect the very thing I love the most. Yet, no one would understand my desire to do something that to the outside world sees as fruitless. This is why I would love to sit in a room where the air is filled with the energy of the creative. A place where people understand the sometimes lonely, sometimes dark places we are led by our muses. Feeding off each other. Perhaps someday I can be there but today I smile and direct the creative ones to their workshop. I’ll smile and hide my jealousy, my wanting.
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ramblings,
writing
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