Giving Thanks

I actually have quite a bit to be thankful for. I just never think about it. First, I'm actually enjoying my classes, and most of my homework. School isn't being annoying. Second, I got an A in my first half-semester class - my first solid A since high school. This makes me ridiculously happy. Third, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving break. I got to see my grandparents, my brother, and my cousin. I got to drive a nice car, I got to shoot a nice gun - and hold others, and read, and relax, and talk. Fourth, although I'm still not great, I'm doing a better job of staying in touch with home, and it helps my head stay more level. Fifth, I'm busy enough that I'm not thinking too much. Mostly, that is. Sixth, I got a bunch of books in TN; hurrah for grandparents! Seventh, even though my travels both to and from TN were crazy and tiring and turbulent and long, I'm safe. I survived just fine. Every time traveling goes haywire on me, and I make it through ok, my confidence grows just a wee bit. This is a good thing. Annoying as it was to have over an hour of constant turbulence, it made me stronger, I think. Eighth, I've got a good group of people to eat dinner with on Mondays; this is encouraging and fun. Ninth, my floor is reading The Princess Bride aloud, while drinking tea and hot chocolate and eating cookies. Such a funny book. And it's good fellowship. Tenth, I got some really good food (read: steaks) this past week. I was so proud of myself for how much I ate! Eleventh, it looks like I'll be visiting Olin briefly this weekend.
I know there's more, but for now, I'll leave it here. I could find things to whine about, too, but they just aren't worth it. The point is that there are good things in my life, regardless of whether or not I pay attention to them. Now to take all those complaints and somehow turn them into thanks as well...

creativity

the depths of this past week were buried by a research paper. the past month or more a haze of worksheets, books, and essays has clouded my life. someone asked a couple weeks ago if i was still writing poetry, and i realized that no, i haven't written much lately. and if i sit down with the intention of writing, it doesn't happen. poetry is spontaneous - it always has been for me. but this spontaneous creativity hasn't been happening lately. so, of course, i wonder why. where's my creativity? is it buried by all my attempts to comprehend all i'm reading? am i just too busy? i don't think it's busyness; i've been much busier and still had poetry exploding my brain. i'm inclined to think it's a lack of emotional stimulation. looking back at most of what i've written, it was usually during an emotionally stimulating or painful time. when i'm complacently busy, just doing the motions of living, my creativity seems to shrink. i seem to need to either be hurting or ecstatic. so my writing of poetry seems to be a sign of badness or absolute wonder. it means life is either horrid or beautiful. in times like this, when life is normal and just ok and all the same, nothing comes. does emotion stimulate creativity? does contentment hinder it? which is more important: creativity or contentment?