As Johan Brook awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself not being a creative person at all.
I’ve had this feeling, almost identity, that I’m a creative person, ever since my teenage years. I’ve been enjoying creating birthday cards, posters, magazines, websites, blog themes, code projects, blog posts, photo manipulations and poems during a long time now. But am I truly creative?
I’m surrounded by creativity and people practicing it. This notion on the web, where creating things and being productive is the ultimate sophistication. It’s almost dizzying to see the extreme amount of stuff being created by individuals and groups of people every single day. Some of those things are changing the world, other things are just fun and silly and will be forgotten tomorrow.
Am I envious? Perhaps. Even though I want to minimise the amount of time I spend at the computer outside of my job, I’m so amazed by the source of ideas some people have. An idea is fragile: it demands nurturing and a bravery to shoot it down, if necessary.
I’ve been travelling (“nomading”) for about two years now. I’ve got tons of experiences I’d love to express, and potential ideas to build. But still I feel no calm in my soul for doing that.
To be inventing something completely new. The creative spark. To create and watch something grow. Just from an idea. Those are things I miss. If I’ve ever had them. Aren’t we just copying each other anyway?