On Recovering My Creativity: The Journey Back to What Makes Me Happy
Part of my journey to live a life of creativity is to reconnect with my inner child.
I call her Little Roxine. She likes Maglites, Swiss army knives, and magazines. She secretly wishes everyone would just leave her alone to her books, her thinking, and her notebooks. She was never one of the “creative”, artsy kids who drew or played instruments because no one told her that her obsession with reading and writing made her one.
Back in high school, Little Roxine hated math and science but loved history, economics, and literature. The liberal arts, writing, and aesthetics — she grew up learning that these were frivolous, part-time pursuits next to real vocations like business, science, and math. But Teenage Rox felt she had to take the practical, “hard” route. She almost went into Management Engineering, just because it was the hardest business program she could find.
I did well in school but the truth remained: I was a liberal arts kid, masquerading as a business student. My commerce courses bored my brains out. But I came alive in history, logical reasoning, astronomy, and philosophy. In fact, I almost failed a course called The History of Espionage after I got a D on my final paper. But even then, I felt more accomplishment after that course than I did from getting a perfect score in a math final that half my class had failed.
And now, I’m reconnecting with my inner child, trying to make up for lost time.
I’m taking courses on writing, journalism, and music through MasterClass and learning about history, religion, and philosophy on Wondrium. I bought myself high-end Leuchtturm1917 notebooks (pronounced, “loi strum”) for my journaling practice. I carry a dotted one for bullet journaling and an unruled one for morning pages. These notebooks are hardy, with pages are made of archival, acid-free paper that won’t turn brittle and yellow with age. They remind me each day of who I am: a writer, a creative, despite the odds.
Growing up in a polluted, congested city like Manila, I didn’t have access to a lot of green, open spaces. So a month ago, I bought a portable camping chair for two reasons: to sit on the sidelines during summer ultimate frisbee tournaments and to have the luxury to go read and write by outdoors, whenever and wherever I want. This lets me spend more time alone offline, reading, writing, and thinking.
And I’m just getting started.
Tapping into my right brain has always been play for me, but work for others. While Little Roxine could do smart kid stuff like name all the bones in the human body from the occipital to the metatarsal, a part of me always wondered what could have been had she/I dedicated more time to the liberal arts, to living in creativity.
Or even just had access to resources and encouragement earlier.
No matter. The time for wondering is over. It’s time to write to make up for lost time.
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