I have been feeling very anti-creative, lately. I just want to shop. Try on eye shadows at the MAC counter. Pretend I'm going to buy $100+ skin products. Browse through the sales rack at Anthropologie. Find hot guys hot. Work out like some obsessed body conscious skinny freak (without the skinny part). I want to be that lady. The one in the Lulullemon pants (yes, I'm judgmental about people who wear obsessed with overpriced yoga clothes), who goes to Pilates twice a week, gets a facial every month, and has never felt that pervasive emptiness for longer than a week or two. I believe those people exist (though maybe not). They take pleasure in organic, green, and beautiful places. They feel grief in the measure we were meant to feel it, and not like some creative freak who needs to spend her life savings writing plays, and books and going to therapy...

It's kind of nice to not feel sometimes. To stay skimming at the surface. To forget about my heart that gets broken, my passions that lead me nowhere, my curiosity about every character who walks into Peete's.....Who cares about writing? Understanding. Feeling...I just want some new clothes.

Just for today, I'm anti-creative.