your turn: view board

I am coming to the conclusion that I am actually quite scared of being creative. I will do almost anything (and with Facebook, one needs hardly anything at all) to avoid taking one of my many ideas and turning them into something which might conceivably be A Bit Shit.

More scrabble, perhaps....do the windows need cleaning? I ought to put some socks on, I think I'll just do some gardening. I'm going to the shops to buy a pen/a pair of shoes/some plants/a book/bedroom furniture. I need a nap! I am going to re-arrange my finances, ring the plumber, get loft insulation: Oh Look! Another ancient friend on Facebook. Hurrah!: it's my turn in scrabble. Oh; it's not my turn I'll challenge someone else to another game of scrabble. Cup of coffee would be nice, and then maybe I'll hoover then make some soup then fill rubble bags then have a bath then I urgently must look up the feminine of the word 'maestro' and gosh YouTube MySpaz Bloglines Facebook Facebook Blogger Facebook Gmail Facebook I fancy a drink really it's time for bed.

No. Really. Now. RIGHT NOW.

In a minute.

no songs in my head for a week or so now. worrying.

I stood in the classroom this morning singularly failing to distract children from the falling snow. In the end I had to concede that all I really wanted to do was stand in front of the window and watch it coming straight down like heavy feathers. 'Heavy feathers' I thought to myself. 'That's how it looks.' I wanted to tell someone, but I didn't think the seven year olds would get it, and besides I was supposed to be distracting them.*

So I'm telling you. I've managed to remember it through to the end of the day, which is some sort of miracle.

I snatched three quarters of an hour in bed this evening by skipping sign-language practice. Several texted traffic updates prevented me from sleeping so instead I lay there and watched the sky get darker out of the window. How rare this is, I thought: just nothing for a moment.

An artist needs mental space, I thought. A space to find the creativity. A teacher is always engaged, whether in answering a hundred identical questions or breaking up conflicts or explaining something again or pursuing a cup of tea or teaching, even. The two things do not go together very well, really.

An image popped into my head, words in a thought bubble. I'll draw that later, when I have another moment, I thought. I'll post it to my blog. I worried briefly that people might think I was plagiarising. I considered several other images, about engaged teachers and constantly chasing sleep and spending all my spare time rushing from one place to another. They wait in my head now, for some time to get them down on paper.

I'd do it now, but I'm in a rush.

*We gave up in the end, and made snowmen. It was fun.