Creative undead.

Or creatively dead, as it were. Every so often I go through these bouts where I feel like all my creative juices have dried up. Or I feel like I have these ideas in my head but I can't "see" them I can't get them out. I think the problem is my day job. It's Oatmeal colored office work, bland and tasteless. I feel that while I'm stuck here listening to the office chatter about TV shows I don't watch or celebrities I don't care about I could be off somewhere, painting or sculpting. Thinking about this depresses me, because I realize that no matter how much I'd like to live a life filled with art and free thinking, I'm stuck here at this job. The problem is, you can't live in this world without money, and I've yet to find a way to make a living with my art, now if that ever happened I'd be happier than a pig in shit, but for now I'm just in shit.

Maybe some day I'll break free from this invisible prison and live a life worth living, until then it's back to the grind for me.