Creativity and Laziness

I have always been dubbed a creative person by various family members or school teachers. Aptitude tests revealed strong leanings towards careers in the arts and entertainment fields, or in the education field. I loved to cook, paint, draw, write, read, dance, sing, play instruments, act, and pretty much anything else under a similar umbrella (although for some reason organization and office duties were an outlying passion of mine). These days, though, I find my creative juices seldom flowing and my energy waning. Which is why I’m glad someone in 1971 decided to create Hamburger Helper. I rarely buy that brand, of course, given the price-per-unit difference between it and the Hell-Mart brand.

For me, when it comes to box mixes, I like to grab at least one of each flavor, variety being the spice of life and whatnot. I used to go through the trouble of planning and preparing from-scratch meals on a regular basis, until I realized that my efforts went largely unnoticed or unappreciated by those to whom the meals were served. These days, especially with the added fatigue of my pregnancy, the quicker the meal-prep time the better. Last night, the meal took especially longer to prepare than a box mix would have because my darling innocent angel baby decided that it would be just totally awesome fun if she took the ground beef I had thawing in a sink of hot water and stirred it around until the water was full of red color and scattered particles of beef, and for added pleasure she took several of the dishes that had been draining on the clean-dish side of the counter and tossed them into the mixture.

Being of too low a budget to allow an entire pound of meat to end up in the sewer system prior to any attempt at digestion, I painstakingly sifted said meat from the water. At completion of the process, I still probably had lost about a quarter pound of the raw beef, but at least I’d saved enough of it to cook the Great Value brand beef stroganoff flavored beef helper. I correctly assumed that any germs present in the sink would cook out as I was browning the beef, especially since I wash my sink prior to and immediately after the dish-washing process. Still, it was a frustrating evening, and, being that the entire day had been peppered with other similar toddler-curiosity-inspired disasters, she got a lengthy time-out in her room during my extended meal-preparation-process, followed by a one-way-trip back to her room once she had consumed her dinner, husband had left for work, and I got tired of the constant barrage of unplanned additional chores.

This morning, though, in spite of having only bedded myself around five, I was awakened shortly before my husband entered our bedroom around eight. He would have likely let me sleep in, knowing of my frustrating and long night, but–though last night was one of anger, frustration, and depression–this morning I found myself in a pleasant and potentially manic state, mainly because I knew that, as soon as the closest branch of the public library opened its doors for the day, I could pick up the latest copy of the political magazine I’ve been freelancing for. I could not wait to see what this issue looked like and to find out what changes, if any, my own article received in the editing phase.

I woke Luna up and got her dressed; she ran back and forth between husband and I while I was playing on my computer, trying to kill time before the 9a opening of the library. I ate half a banana for breakfast, but let Luna have the rest since it seemed that the not-yet-born baby wasn’t fond of bananas this morning. I decided that Luna could go with me to get the magazine. Unfortunately, the branch of the library closest to my house appeared to have either run out of copies or never received them. I drove halfway across town to a local coffeeshop and found, much to my delight, that they had a huge stack of the magazines. I grabbed several copies, thinking that I wanted to share them with friends and family.

Feeling guilty, though, about entering a dining establishment without having ordered anything, I went to the counter and tried to do math in my head as to which coffee-based beverage would cost the least amount of money, being that I only had slightly more than two dollars in my bank account. I ordered the ice coffee, and was given a choice between two flavors. I chose one I thought sounded good; the barista added the half and half and poured it over ice for me. I hadn’t realized I’d need to add my own sugar. FYI: Sugar In The Raw doesn’t dissolve well in ice coffee. Luna wanted to sit down, so we sat while I attempted to read my article.

As it turns out, my article went through quite a bit of editing in the post-submission phase. The assistant editor and I apparently co-reported for the piece. I’m trying to not be disappointed by this; I knew that editing could and likely would occur, and I know that drafts get changed all the time out here in the real writing world. The only place I know for sure that my words will be published as I structured them is here on this blog. If I intend, however, to attempt a career in writing, I need to get over being hurt when editors choose to suggest changes to my work or take it upon themselves to make the changes. C’est la vie and whatnot.

I’m hoping to continue writing for this magazine, and to also get my work published in a variety of other venues. I just need to keep being diligent and keep sending things off.

Gonzoe–Que sera, sera! (haha!) C’est La Vie! Have a toast on me. Yeah! State to state, we do it like this. Live like us. Feel like us. That’s life baby. Sheeit. (Where ever you are, where ever you at!)

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