Nobody wins a Pulitzer for being happy

Most writers and artist I admire and respect are very tortured souls. So I’m not too sure why I think I can be a writer being such a privileged middle class princess. Particularly at the moment.

I have a super-dooper awesome man friend whom I adore, a job where I am respected and valued and a house full of wild, eccentric women. Life is good. No wonder I am in a creative lull.

Pain is an irreducible neuro-physiological phenomenon that can be experienced in a myriad of ways. How pain is expressed and therefore lessened is strongly influenced by language, culture and articulated in art. I’m not an alcoholic who marries their 13 year old cousin, I don’t have cholera or syphilis, I don’t have an addiction to ether or opium. I’m just too darn perky and well-adjusted to be an artist.

Sure there are still things that rile me up inside, the death of award-winning photographer and film-maker Tim Hetherington and photojournalist Chris Hondros while covering the Libya conflict is one such event; the saturation and the inane coverage of the Royal Wedding (who cares?); constant discussion on our Prime Minister’s fashion (I’m more concerned about her policies); and the list could go on. Since I no longer work for a NGO I don’t have to be submerged in the media daily. I can pick and choose when I get angry, and for the most part I have tuned out and seem to be better for it.

I felt a tremendous sense of guilt leaving NGO land, but I have been a hell of a lot happier. I think this cannot be underestimated. Recently the UK has started measuring the health of the population not just in economic terms, but also in their sense of wellbeing. My levels of tolerance, positivity and understanding that were usually dried up before the coffee van arrived are now huge reservoirs. I feel like what I can really contribute to the world is a happy individual; they are in scarce supply these days.

So my apologies for the stillness of the Wordatorium of late, I’ve been busy doing nothing and being happy. Hardly Pulitzer prize-winning stuff. I’m sure I’ll get my rant on about something soon enough.

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