Internets, here’s the deal:

I am in the Creative Doldrums.  I can’t think.  And I’m very sleepy.

Before I get on a roll about this, let me just preface by saying: I love my job.  I can’t believe I get to do what I do.  If my 9th grade self could see me now, I know she’d be FLIPPING OUT.  She’d say: “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you work for Student Life!  Do you know Travis?”  And then I’d tell my 9th grade self that I DO, in fact, know Travis and that sometimes we even grill hot dogs at his house and she would promptly faint from SHEER DELIGHT.

Anyway, I really like my job and enjoy it, for the most part.  I am actually using my degree (which was THEATER, so…that’s incredible) and could my parents be more proud of this fact?  No, they could not.  Lately, however, I’ve noticed a slight change taking place in my daily workload.  There’s a script I should be writing and there’s also some mundane administrative duty I need to perform.  Normally, I would slough off the admin task, as admin tasks are boring and I would rather die.  But not lately.  Lately, the admin task seems more appealing.  The looming script deadline hangs ever over my head, but boy, have I made some spreadsheets!  You simply would not believe the spreadsheets.

I know what this means for me.  It means I’m stuck.  I stare at assignments and NOTHING comes to my mind.  I get up, walk around the building, see the baby, get some tea, and I’m stuck.  The fingers fly over the keyboard for the spreadsheets, but not for the scripts.

I pretty much know why I’m stuck.  Here are a couple of reasons:
There’s a baby.  She’s cute and cuddly, but also a sleep sucker.
I have no creative outlet outside of work.

It’s really that last one.  Even my free time is mostly spent writing freelance, so still work.  It’s very fun work and I enjoy it, but my brain is at maximum capacity.

So, I’ve got to find a cure.  I mean, this is my job.  My job is 10% spreadsheets, and people will get suspicious if all these spreadsheets start popping up everywhere.

I trolled the internets for some solutions.  It seems many people have this problem.  Art-Slam says I need to change the scenery and flip the script.  John Cleese says I need to go on auto-pilot for awhile and see where my whims take me.   E-How (yes, I have stooped to E-How) tells me to write down my goals, do something different, and not be afraid of support.

In The Phantom Tollbooth, Milo is rescued from the Doldrums by a dog with a ginormo clock embedded into his side named Tock.  So I’ve got to figure out what my Tock is.  Any suggestions on getting out of these old, sleepy Doldrums?

I’m all ears, internets.