In an agency, there are about three million fancy job titles. Most of these titles don’t actually mean anything, and among agency employees, the titles are divided into three broad categories – Creative, Client Service, and Admin. The department I fall under is Creative, and my official title is Copywriter.

I read an article about the contradictory characteristics of creative people. I also saw a tweet that claimed the current fad on social media is to call yourself a ‘creative’, because ‘all the cool kids these days work at agencies.’ So it gets a little awkward for someone like me, who actually does work in the creative department of an ad agency. When someone asks what I do for a living, I usually just go with ‘writer’ and focus on my freelance work. It’s easier than getting the derision, knowing glances, and veiled envy reserved for ‘creatives’.

Thing is … the more I read and hear about creatives, the more I worry that I might not actually be one. People call me ‘creative’ all the time, but that’s just because I wear jeans to work, write for six different blogs, and have purple strands in my hair. I think the word they’re really going for is ‘eccentric’, ‘strange’, or even ‘weird’.

My family calls me ‘creative’ because I worked from home for a year and just barely managed to pay my bills. They’re from the conservative office culture, so this ‘freelancing thing’ (and the single mom thing, and the rock music thing, and the goth tattoos thing, and the making money online thing) makes me some sort of alien.

Back to social media, ‘creative’ is the new ‘hustler’. I read that on a tweet too. It’s a vague, generic term that covers writers, designers, DJs, events people, art directors, dancers, stage poets, musicians, sketch artists, emcees, random agency personnel, anything really. And it sounds a lot more professional than saying you’re in ‘the arts’, which would make people assume you’re an unpaid resident at National Theatre.

Creatives are thought to be a pretty wild bunch. They have tequila for breakfast, inhale coffee, smoke like chimneys, and routinely sample hard drugs mild stimulants space cookies. Me, I’m one of the only people in the office that turns down free tequila on non-religious grounds and consciously avoids staff parties.

While my fellow creatives thrive on long hours, leave the office at midnight, and hold brag-fests about who’s survived the longest without sleep, I sneak walk out of the office as early as possible. I also get to the office before eight, but that’s because my hours are dictated by my baby’s school timetable. I’m no more a ‘morning person’ than any other creative, who routinely strolls into the office at 10.

One typical creative character trait I possess is that I constantly bitch about how hard it is to come with ideas … and then I come up with them anyway, sometimes in record time. It’s the creative’s nightmare, because the next time you bitch about last-minute briefs and ask for more time, nobody takes you seriously. Sigh.

According to the article, the true mark of a creative is the ability to pick unusual associations of ideas. You see things that other people don’t see, and you bring them together in ways that make them fit perfectly, or seem to. Then, because it’s such a subconscious process for you, you worry that others will spot you for the fraud that you are. You’re pretty good at hiding your insecurities about your work, but deep down, not even the largest raise, loudest compliment, or shiniest trophy will convince you otherwise.

That’s probably why so many creatives are substance addicts – they’re chasing their next big idea, trying to stay awake, and desperately hiding from their own inadequacy. I suppose in that one aspect – at least when it comes to my work at the agency – then I am a creative. And my chosen addictions? Long walks, rock music, unusual reading material, random bursts of sunshine, and lots and lots of sugar. Twende kazi.

♫ Broken wings ♫ Alter Bridge ♫

… that we’re asking the wrong question. It all starts out innocently enough. An aggrieved woman asks, ‘Are men and women equal?’ If you answer, ‘Yes’, then the issue becomes, ‘Why aren’t they treated equally?’ If you answer ‘No’ then you’re a male chauvinist, even if you happen to be, you know, a woman.

So just what IS a feminist? I read an insightful post on tumblr that said a feminist is a person that advocates equal rights for women. The article further explains that lots of people are feminists, even though they may not know it. I don’t ascribe to feminism, even though most people think I do. I recognize that feminists from the past have done a lot for me. They got me an education, a job, jeans, the right to vote. Without them, I’d probably be a third wife to some old lout in a village somewhere.

Yet I say I’m not a feminist, because my idea of feminism is the radical females that have taken things too far. That doesn’t stop men (and women) who meet me from declaring me a feminist, because I’m a loud single mum with an opinion about everything. So why am I not a feminist? Because feminism answers the wrong question.

Men are not equal to women. Women are not equal to men. Men are not superior to women. Women are not superior to men. Neither gender is inferior to the other, because the two genders are complementary. The fact is that men can’t thrive without women, and women can’t thrive without men. They can live, they can survive, they can even be happy. But in order to thrive, they need each other.

Let’s look at the most basic point – population. For the human race to procreate, we need both men and women. Men need a womb and egg from a female. Women need a sperm from a male. You could spend lifetimes arguing about which of those components is more crucial, but the fact is if you took out either part, there would be no children. Then the human race would become completely extinct.

What about homosexual couples? A lesbian couple still needs a sperm from a male. A gay male couple still needs an egg and a womb. Even adoptive parents need a man and woman to collaborate and produce that child. Without that connection, there’d be no baby for them to adopt.

Fine, what about after the child is born, what then? Well, somebody needs to look after the baby. Feeding, changing, bathing, playing etc. And somebody needs to pay the bills so that somebody else can look after the baby. Who does what is not the point.

A man is better endowed physically for hunting, gathering, detaching from the child during work hours, and is therefore intrinsically better suited to provide for the family. A woman can learn these skills. A woman is more nurturing and emotional, and has breasts, so she’s intrinsically better at child care. A man can learn these skills.  So when it comes to child rearing, gender is a factor, but it’s not a deciding factor.

Now, let’s look at gender inequality. Because a woman’s biological make-up is better suited to raising children, some people believe that’s all she should do. Because a man’s biological make-up is better suited for provision, some people believe that’s all he should do. These two beliefs have led to both genders being institutionally locked out of certain opportunities, at school, at work, and at home.

These opportunities are related to skill, not gender, and we’ve already established that these skills can be learned. It may be slightly more difficult for a man to rear a child or for a woman to hunt a mammoth, but it can be done. So, again, gender is a stupid basis for denying anyone an opportunity.

Now, let’s look at the things a man or woman CAN’T do because of their gender. A woman can’t fertilize an egg. A man can’t gestate a child. If there’s ANYTHING else that a man or woman can’t do based on their gender, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

So, as far as I know, the ONLY thing that can be denied based on gender is siring and bearing children. Which of the two is more important is a pointless argument, since taking any of the two out of the equation eliminates children, which means the human race is gone.

Now, based on men siring children and women bearing children, it would be insensible for a mother that is 8 months pregnant to climb the scaffolding on a construction site, or grab a gun and charge into battle. It would be equally impractical for a father to grab his hungry infant and hide in the closet without a feeding bottle.

If men and women were equal, then a couple in their eighth month of pregnancy could both climb that scaffolding I mentioned earlier. But just because the mother can’t (and shouldn’t) doesn’t make her inferior. If men and women were equal, then a couple with a two week old baby could both feed him using the liquids that flow out of their bodies. Just because the father can’t do that doesn’t make him inferior. In both situations, one parent needs to pay for the other to take care of the child, both within and outside the uterus. They complement each other so that their baby – and the human race – can survive.

Does that mean the kids of homosexual or single parents are missing out? No. It does mean they need the other gender to complement their parenting, and most kids get that through aunts, uncles, teachers, elder siblings, close friends. The point is the genders balance each other out, in all areas of life.

So, should men and women be given the same opportunities? Yes. Should they always take the same opportunities? No. Is either gender inferior to the other? No. Are the two genders equal to each other? No. Do the two genders need each other? Absolutely. Is the world doomed if we can’t make peace between men and women. Yes. Can we make this peace while one gender feels antagonized, attacked, and belittled by the other? No. And this is why I’m not a feminist.

♫ Let me be myself ♫ 3 Doors Down ♫

I’m not particularly happy right now. There are some problems at work, and I’m finding it increasingly hard to drag myself to the office every morning. It’s a hard thing to admit, because I’m doing what I love, and to a lot of my industry peers, this is a dream job. It makes me feel like I’m whinging for no apparent reason. Yet the feeling of unhappiness remains. Maybe that’s the problem. “More often than not, we just don’t know how to be happy. Instead we make ourselves miserable and let happiness occur seemingly at random. We have to learn to be happy.”

Here’s another one – “Count no man happy until he is dead” – Solon. According to this article, happiness isn’t a constant. It’s an accumulation of moments, so we have to keep seeking it, finding it, and re-seeking it when it lapses. To quote the article, “We like to think that continual happiness is something we can actually realize; who wouldn’t like to live life in perpetual bliss and joy, wandering around every day with a goofy smile on your face? Instead, it always seems as though it’s just out of reach and when we do achieve it, it proves to be all too fleeting and short-lived.”

A few days ago, I was offered an amazing opportunity. It was a side job that would pay double my monthly salary in less than two weeks. I turned it down because the terms and conditions were iffy. I would have to travel, which I don’t particularly enjoy, and I’d have to spend a potentially prolonged period ‘partying’ with people I don’t like. I’d have to be away from my princess, and I’d have to promote a product that I really, really detest. Plus, I didn’t like the attitude of the side-job boss. I figured the task was more trouble than it was worth.

I’m actually at peace with my decision, which bothers me, because nobody should be this comfortable about turning down that much money. Also, I got a half hour lecture and some silent treatment for – you know – turning down that much money. I’m always talking about how I want to earn more, but when someone offered it to me, I walked away because I didn’t like the delivery guy. It makes me worry that maybe I lack the mentality to be wealthy.

Refusing to do that side-job was a principled, emotional decision, and as far as I know, principles and emotions have no place in the business of getting rich. I often tell myself I don’t care about money – at least not in the abstract sense. I live a fairly simple life and am easily sated. That said, I do have expensive tastes. I like bacon and Converse sneakers and BMWs, all of which cost a lot of money. I feel suddenly sad thinking that if I want to own that X6 or that penthouse or that shoe-rack full of Converse, I might need to stop being so principled.

Last week, I wrote down a detailed game plan on how to get my salary doubled. This morning I stared at my desk in despair, because the game plan is deep, dark, convoluted, unnatural … and would involve a lot of sucking up. Somehow it just doesn’t feel like it’s worth it.

I suppose the real reason I’m unhappy is that I’m not where I thought I’d be at 32. I’ve convincingly argued that I’m actually not comparing myself to other people. I’m comparing myself to my vision. But when I really think about it, that vision was defined by … *dramatic sigh* … Lorelai Gilmore. In vaguely related news, my baby girl likes Nikki Minaj and One Direction. I know none of their songs, which means I am now officially this mom *pointing*at*the*video*down*there*pause*shudder*. She still loves me though, so yay!

In constructing this post, I bumped into a lot of articles about the true meaning of happiness. It’s the same things people always say – stop watching TV, don’t compare yourself to others, don’t sell out for a buck, be grateful for what you have. This article puts it quite nicely. It says if everyone could become a millionaire at 20 or win the Oscars, it wouldn’t be so remarkable. So we essentially compare ourselves to really rare things and end up stealing our own happiness.

The article suggests instead that you should focus on what you’ve done, not on how it compares to other people. Did you save up to buy your dream phone? Pass your driving test? Keep your job while others were retrenched? Write a popular blog post? Make an awesome drawing? Squeeze a compliment out of your grumpy boss? These are all cool things – and ironically, they’re things other people would love to achieve. Think about that for a second. “Take a look around your life. There’s a lot you should be proud of. Even if it seems silly or minor, that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t count.”

I’ve always wondered how to stop comparing myself to people, but when I look at it like that, accepting that I’m matching myself up against someone’s grandest achievement rather than their ordinary, everyday life, then it sounds really silly. I have lots of friends who get mad at me when I make genuine complaints about my life, because they want my life. And I didn’t even realize what that meant until a few months ago.

A friend of mine made a massive leap up the corporate ladder. Corner office, fancy title, social status, higher pay cheque, the works. Except he hates it. He misses his old job. I spent half an hour convincing him that the new job was a good thing, that he should make the most of it, that millions of people envy him – including me! And I didn’t realize till about five seconds ago that I was telling him to not to do the exact thing I’m doing right now. Sigh.

So I suppose that’s the place to start. Acknowledging that despite all the problems, I have a good job at a good firm [mostly] doing what I love and getting paid for it. Sure, there are parts of my job I detest, but maybe I can balance them out with the parts I enjoy. And maybe if I just train myself to focus on the gratitude, then it won’t be so hard to smile when I walk to my desk each morning.

Bottom line, don’t use others as a measure of your success, even if ‘others’ are Lorelai Gilmore. You don’t know what their life is like. “You’re comparing your raw footage to their highlights.” This – however – is no excuse for schadenfreude. Coz that’s just begging for bad karma. Also, non-comparison takes training. Lots and lots and lots of training.

The first lesson for me is that just because I feel powerless doesn’t mean I am. There’s always a step I can take, even a teeny, tiny baby one. I can’t control everything that happens, but I can control how I react, which is a good way of looking at things, since I’m such a control freak. A lot of my depressive episodes start when I feel like I’ve lost control of – well – everything. So this is a good lesson for me.

The article says positivity is a habit, and so is negativity. It suggests you take a positivity challenge, where you make a conscious choice to be positive about everything for 7 days. If you notice a lapse, even if it’s on day 6, start over. And you have to deliberately look for the bright side in everything, including yourself. You have to find the light at the end of the tunnel of your own faults and nasty character traits. Life really is all about perspective. I know this will be especially hard for me, given my history with depression, but I think it’s an experiment worth doing, and it could literally change my life, and yours as well.

Like the article says, “You have to be willing to think, ‘Yes, this sucks, but all will be well in the end. Life isn’t fair. Life just is. But you have a choice between guaranteed misery and the pursuit of happiness. Happiness isn’t something you’re given, it’s something you earn. If you want to be happy, you have to be willing to go out and create it. Shit happens. And when it does, you have a choice. Are you going to cowboy up and fight for a happier life, or just lay there and bleed?”

♫ Someday ♫ Nickelback ♫