I stand at the James bay bus stop, late afternoon spring sun just beginning to set. I yawn, groggy still with an artistic hangover, the crash after the success. Lying on my apartment studio is the beginnings of a new drawing, sitting there in the same spot and state that it has been all week, as I have no motivation to do anything but drink coffee and play video games. I sip coffee too, this early evening, a Pike Place Starbucks blend, an addiction I have yet to successfully break. The bus turns the corner and stops next to me. I board it, swiping my pass.
I notice that it is a newly built but and is still heavy with new bus smell of fresh upholstery and new rubber flooring. I grab a seat in the back and watch as Beacon Hill Park slides by and out of view as we turn the corner. I am still as unmotivated today as I have been since hanging my art display, as I sit, unsure of what my next career move will be. Lately I have had an odd obsession with my online story telling, part of a unique underground culture of video game story tellers. I enjoy the ability to create fiction and art at the same time, and also how immediately you reach your intended audience. Last night, though, I realized that I have grown tired of writing to a teenage video game audience and want once again write to adults.
The bus stops briefly in James Bay village. I notice the “Traveling Bean” coffee shop and remember it was the one I was supposed to do a story on for the paper I briefly volunteered at. I did not go through with it though, as, at the time, it was not creative enough to capture my artist interest. The bus pulls out and I stare out the window at the increasingly downtown scenery. It is new, this sudden desire to write again. For years my writing has lain doormat and forgotten inside of me, despite being my original first love. Over the last few months though, the desire to craft scenes with words has burst forth again, the writing now grown up inside of me and ready to reenter the world.
The bus turns on to Douglas street and I am hit with a sudden frenzy of traffic and after school swarms of teenagers. I leave the peace of James bay behind and am thrown back into city life. I get off at my stop and avoid being trampled by the overcrowded downtown bus stop. A man walking beside me is whistling and I find the high pitch sound ear splitting. My brain is tired from the recent four months of intense creative energy and wants peace and rest. I turn quickly off of Douglas and head up Fort towards home. Although I know it is time to come out of my down spell and get back to my creative goals, my mind still hesitates, unsure of what those creative goals are. Another art display? A novel? The night before I emailed a few coffee shops about another display, but in the morning I found myself once again at the computer writing the latest installment in my teenage read online drama.
I reach my building, put the key in the lock, and go in. I enter the elevator and hit ’3′. When I get off I have to avoid the maintenance worker who is painting the hallway. I carefully edge by his equipment, careful not to touch the walls. I don’t need more paint on my clothes than what I’ve already put there myself. I go into my apartment and say hello to the pet. She twitches her nose and squeaks a greeting. I drop my jacket haphazardly on the bean bag chair and go to my studio. I look at the drawing, the dark colors, the interesting heart design and know that it is one I want to finish, but at the moment….I go back to the computer to check on comments about my latest computer drama story. There is one comment saying simple, “Utterly brilliant.” I lean back in my Victorian desk chair and think that maybe fighting my desire to write is pointless and that maybe, for a bit, I should go with it. I think of the novel that has been in my head since November, that has the first two chapters written, and the novel I have already written and published. I stand up and find my notebook and go out into the last rays of sun on my balcony. I pick up a pen and begin the second aspect of my artist life.
