Creative People Are Freaks

Creative people are freaks

I made an attempt to look presentable this morning. You wouldn’t know this because my face is red and blotchy, my glasses are sliding down my face, and sweat has replaced the “natural glow” my foundation promised on the label. I’m panting.

See, the library has three stories…

And I want the best desk. One secluded, in a cool atmosphere, by the window… I’ve passed the same fifty people, on three separate floors, approximately fifteen THOUSAND times within the past half hour. They think I’m crazy, or looking for someone. My bag weighs 75 pounds. My hair is stuck under a strap, tugging my head to one side, but I circle again. Because I’m a creative person, and if I don’t get a spot by the window, the closest I will get to a prolific thought is, “maybe I would come up with better post ideas if I was by a window…

Here are 6 ways creative people are freaks.

What I Imagine The Blogging World To be

What I Imagine The Blogging World To Be Rebekah Koontz Site

The Blogosphere is a beautiful place. Neighbors are friendly and encouraging (as long as you keep to appropriate hashtags). Backgrounds are white. And there are always fresh flowers. Everywhere. Long stemmed and vibrant in porcelain vases on the breakfast nook.

The Blogosphere smells good, like Bath and Body Works mixed with the smells of home. In the Summer, it smells of watermelon lemonade. In the Fall, it smells of pumpkin spice and leaves. But nothing beats the smell of the Blogosphere in Christmas time. Mmm…

This place is a community. We each pull our weight, and we pull together. We sit in a circle on folding chairs and pass The Talking Stick around. We listen and respond and are never harsh.

We’re all in this together.

When You Have Nothing To Say

I got nothing

The curser blinks at you.

*blink-blink-blink-blink*

It’s a steady beat. A constant reminder of your lack of creativity. Your tired brain. Your empty train of thought.

You’re me at this very moment. You have writer’s[blogger’s]block.

For a split second, you think you have an idea. A spark!

And then you daydream about lunch, and the spark’s gone.

Bye-bye spark. . .