The older – and happier – I get, the less creative I have become. Some of my older blog posts, even as recently as two or three years ago, seemed fun and interesting, but now I just recount my life. Even the sock snowman I made the other night at the museum is cute, but not as creative as some of the other ones being made next to me. True confession: I stole some ideas from the other ladies while making my snowman. Why would being happy make a person less creative? This doesn’t seem to be limited to my life; it is a cliché that great artists are always unhappy people, but maybe that is because there is at least a grain of truth to it. So does being unhappy make a person creative, or does being creative make a person unhappy? To test this question, I will now attempt to be creative and see if it decreases my happiness, or if my generally happy nature keeps my creative endeavor from being of any quality. Here is a poem about terrible secular Christmas songs:
It’s that time of year
When you turn on the radio and hear
Songs about reindeer and snowmen,
Things that appeal to no men.
Is it really the most “wonderful” time
When everything is snow and rime?
Yes, there are beautiful lights,
But nobody sings about lit-up nights.
Why do these lovely carols I know
Never get played on the radio?
Would people really rather hear
About godless and relentless good cheer?
OK, my experiment is done, and maybe I am slightly less happy than before beginning, because that poem is really not any good. Then again, neither are the songs that inspired it.