I have a lot of things that I should be doing right now instead of typing this (most people have things to do two weeks before their wedding). In fact, I think because I have so many things to do, I’m avoiding them by pretending that this is the priority. Still, I feel that this is a priority, and this is what I need to do right now to keep my brain from exploding. This is the mental release that I need.
I am re-restarting to blog. I know, I know: I’ve said it before, and I said it before I said it before. But here’s the thing: this time, I’m serious about it. This time I mean it. 4rlz.
Last night I sat down with Sam and vented a bit about things in my (our) life. I admitted to procrastinating at work because I’ve been sucked into the blogosphere and am highly uninterested and unchallenged at my job. Here are the things I’ve realized, and why the blog is part of the solution (the blog is not the solution, just a piece of it):
I need an outlet.
I’ve got things to say, and I need a place to say them. Sometimes they’re public thoughts, sometimes they’re very personal. The thing about a blog is that it totally hovers that line. I am putting things out to the public–literally to anyone who has internet access–but the odds of anyone finding this blog are slim to none. (Does that fascinate anyone else, by the way? Just how much content lives and exists on the internet, and that there are very few people in the world who will come across any particular piece of it? Absolutely blogging-mind-boggling.) So, while I am sticking everything to a wall the whole world could see if they wanted to see it, I will be openly honest in all the things I express because this blog is intended for me as a release. If someone reads it and benefits from its content, I’m fine with that; I don’t expect to make it big it the massive bubble that is the blogosphere. I am writing for myself, and I am sharing these thoughts as a way to reach someone should it reach them.
I need to flex my creative muscles.
When I put aside the fantastic people I work with, the flexibility of my job, and the great benefits that I know I’m fortunate to have at my tender age, the toughest thing about my job is that I feel completely and totally trapped in a design box. I have two people above me who monitor my work and make sure I adhere to brand style. I do believe in having a specific style to a brand, but my problem with this particular branding is that it’s branding for a financial institution: as an organization, we have to be conservative because people want the folks handling their cash to be conservative, straight-shootin’, home-grown good-ol’-boys. It’s nothing against my superiors or my co-workers that they watch what I do and make sure the brand pulls through and we stay inside the lines, because it’s the nature of the job. Well, the nature of the job is what sucks the lifeblood out of me. I need to create.
I want to study the strokes of letters and old vintage advertisements and relearn the rules of the grid and how to break the rules of the grid and stare at magazines in bookstores just because the cohesion of all the elements on a page synchronize perfectly and find beauty in the world around me and be able to look at something and say, “Yes. Yes, this works.” I want to find that piece of me again, because it’s been locked up inside me for too long and now I’ve forgotten where I put it.
“It” is hard to describe. The best I can describe “it” is:
- Challenging myself to push the boundaries of what I’m capable of doing.
- The freedom of knowing I can do whatever I want to do, and not holding myself back from living and chasing after the life I want.
- Learning something new about the world, design, this city, my self…anything.
- The way my brain thinks when the parts of my life align, and I want to create something I am proud of putting out there.
Finding “it” is one of the hardest things to do, but it’s going to be infinitely harder if I don’t try. Blogging is my way to try. I will share something with the world, and in doing so I will hope to find “it” with each step.
Thank you for taking these steps with me. I hope we both find something out there.