// Staggering Through Stagnation // I’ve been not developing my new music project BeastReality for almost a year now. I conceptualized it in March, and since then have only managed to squeeze out the skeletons of four beats, and the writing to accompany two of them. In my heart of hearts, I know I’m passionate about this – it’s not about being scared that it won’t be good enough, or that if I sat down to work on it that I wouldn’t be able to create something wonderful. It’s getting myself to sit down in the first place. The unfortunate blessing about my particular breed of creativity is that it thrives on inspiration. I love films, and music, and amazing museum exhibits. Archived deep in my brain are countless tidbits of the world that I’ve internally recorded – mental stickynotes that perpetually reblog themselves into each other. At times, the world can be so overwhelmingly captivating that I can put down my pen for months on end and just play the audience member. During these moments of digestion, am I doing my own productivity a disservice? Are these periods in which the universe is my muse the reasons why I’m not Drake? I don’t really want to be Drake. Forget I said that. Moving on. And then there’s life itself – family, income, love, rent, shitting, and sleeping. And chewing slowly. And remembering to breathe. And remembering to activate the extended warranties for your electronics. True, freelancing for a living affords me the freedom to own my time – to mold, twist, and spread it out however I theoretically please. But when you never have to clock in, you never can clock out. There’s no boss breathing down your neck – no job to limp home from, untie your tie after, and escape into your own world and passions beyond. Essentially, anytime I’m not working on my own creativity feels like another opportunity lost. It’s the most awesome yet daunting responsibility. It’s a life lesson I’m still trying to learn.
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// Staggering Through Stagnation //

I’ve been not developing my new music project BeastReality for almost a year now. I conceptualized it in March, and since then have only managed to squeeze out the skeletons of four beats, and the writing to accompany two of them. In my heart of hearts, I know I’m passionate about this – it’s not about being scared that it won’t be good enough, or that if I sat down to work on it that I wouldn’t be able to create something wonderful. It’s getting myself to sit down in the first place.

The unfortunate blessing about my particular breed of creativity is that it thrives on inspiration. I love films, and music, and amazing museum exhibits. Archived deep in my brain are countless tidbits of the world that I’ve internally recorded – mental stickynotes that perpetually reblog themselves into each other. At times, the world can be so overwhelmingly captivating that I can put down my pen for months on end and just play the audience member. During these moments of digestion, am I doing my own productivity a disservice? Are these periods in which the universe is my muse the reasons why I’m not Drake? I don’t really want to be Drake. Forget I said that. Moving on.

And then there’s life itself – family, income, love, rent, shitting, and sleeping. And chewing slowly. And remembering to breathe. And remembering to activate the extended warranties for your electronics. True, freelancing for a living affords me the freedom to own my time – to mold, twist, and spread it out however I theoretically please. But when you never have to clock in, you never can clock out. There’s no boss breathing down your neck – no job to limp home from, untie your tie after, and escape into your own world and passions beyond. Essentially, anytime I’m not working on my own creativity feels like another opportunity lost. It’s the most awesome yet daunting responsibility. It’s a life lesson I’m still trying to learn.

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