The Big Blue Funk - Creativity

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.

My band was gone. I had gotten on a roll with some good stories in my sophomore year, but I didn’t have anything to write with except an old electric typewriter with no correction tape. There certainly weren’t any theatrical opportunities around in good ole Chelmsdale. And did I really want to draw anymore, after the agony I’d been put through in the past semester or two by professors who only wanted me to become carbon copies of them?

I had no creative outlet during the beginning of the Big Blue Funk of 97 and even when I did find outlets later in the summer, when the band got back together, when I got a computer to type on… Even then, I didn’t exploit my opportunities. With the band I played the same old songs and with my computer I played video games and surfed the internet.

I was depressed. I’d fucked up with yet another girl and alienated people who I thought were becoming my friends in the process. The real hardcore depression I’d been keeping locked up over the past three years was coming back to haunt me. It was just horrendous being me.

And I didn’t have my creativity, that very important part of me that few can imagine me without.  If you want to understand why the Summer of 1997 was so hard for me, you have to imagine a snowball rolling down Mt. Everest. It began with a series of small things and eventually it got so big that nothing but sadness filled my world view.

If only I’d taken pen to paper a couple of times and let it all out…