Am I Blue?

In a word, no.

The relentlessly blue sky of triple-digit Texas, still occasionally fooling me into thinking it would be “nice” to “go outside” and “do stuff” shortly before I snap back to sanity–and if I don’t on my own, the giant slap from the outdoor air will reboot that for me instantaneously–could conceivably lead to a little case of the blues. The prospect of job-prospecting can certainly be azure-tinted. The creeping necrosis of ancient age can induce a bout of cyan-shaded maundering in many.

blue poppy

Cerulean sweetness

But really, mes amis, isn’t there a lovely side to the melancholy, a lure inherent in the dark, even? Seems to me it’s part of the whole Artiste mythos, a contributing factor in the raging Romanticism that makes everyone think it’s okay at some level to be utterly bonkers in a gothically twisted way if one happens to be a Creative Type. Anyone that knows me the slightest degree beyond phone-book-listing knows that I think it’s a massive heap of hooey to say one can’t be truly creative without suffering deeply or that misery somehow engenders and enhances artistic brilliance. I’m more of the poster child for Better Living Through Chemistry and stand around shaking my scolding digit (choose one) at those who use such dangerous rubbish as an excuse not to take their treatment. If the treatment (whatever therapy, from talk to shock) isn’t making you more of the creative soul you were born to be, more, in fact, the very person you were born to be, that’s a failure to find the right recipe of treatment for your individual needs, not proof that treatment is not for you. And decidedly not proof that being unwell is preferable in any way to being whole and contented.

That doesn’t mean I expect or want to be leaping deliriously from one sugar-spun rose petal to another while pan-pipes tootle gaily in the copse. One-note existence of any kind is guaranteed to annoy, at least before it bores you to death. So I’ll take my bumps on the way, settle under the lapis lid of passing sadness when it can’t be avoided. But aside from any urge to grouse, I’ll also take what inspiration I can from the blue-tinged moments and dash back as quickly as I can into the cheering light of a strangely blue-sky world.