Whenever I want to jump on the retail therapy train, I always try and think of it as an investment. I don’t usually spend money on shit that I won’t get substantial use out of. It’s why I still have a sweatshirt I’ve worn since seventh grade.
These days the only things I’ll get plenty of mileage from are art supplies and music gear. I still have to get my guitar worked on, but as it’ll be the first money spent on it since it was bought in 1997, whatever it costs will be worth it. I upgraded my board with a couple new pedals to play with. Lastly I’ll trade in my trusty, but now quite old and slightly busted, amp for an upgrade. But all of this is worth it for two reasons.
One is, as I’m writing music again, having the new pedal board set-up will give me more range for pushing my limits. Having equipment that actually works without producing feedback will make recording and producing that much easier. This is all the technical bullshit of making the creative process that much easier.
In reality, my head has been struggling to stay above water for some time now. Sometimes it takes a change to the physical environment to allow my mental state to deal with struggle of past changes, to try and push ahead. Anything for some forward momentum.
For me, the ability to expand my creative world is sort of like a rebound relationship—just instead of replacing someone meaningful with anyone else, I just use the zen offered by making art to give my heart some time to heal. Who knows how long this might last, in the past it’s sometimes been years. But that’s what these investments are for—to last through the darkness, however long that might take.