I too am controlled by my urge to create. I seriously studied art (planning on being an art teacher) for most of my life, but finally decided that being forced to create (for projects and classes and such) took all the fun out of it. So nowaways, I have a huge metal shoebox thingy filled with oil paints, water colors, oil pastels, and acrylic paints, about a hundred paintbrushes I’ve collected over the years, and easily thirty or forty blank canvases. One moment I’ll be here at the computer, another I’ll be scrambling to get my easel set up and the right colors on my palette. Most of my friends have at least one original painting (I really enjoy framing and matting them too), because I don’t have room for them all.
I also often get the urge to write. I carry around a little black hardbound journal at all times and whip it out whenever I have a cool thought, an interesting image, or if I hear a great quote. Most things never make it out of the book, but some end up in poems or in my ultimate creative writing, the book I’ve been working on for about four years now (it’s at three hundred pages, but the parts I wrote a long time ago are horrible and my plot is messed up and I doubt it’ll ever see the light of day).
I keep an official journal that I write in once a month or so, but I consider my most important artistic endeavor my scrapbooks. I have kept one a year since I was 13. Basically, it’s an output of my combined literary and artistic creativity. It’s hard to describe, but every page is some sort of college of images and words. For example, one page might have a layered mix of images from a magazine with some combined theme and maybe lyrics from a song I love that somehow relates. Another page is painted blue with layered colored tissue paper and then a piece of Chinese-design printed stationary with a poem written on it. It’s very satisfying and very personal, so few people ever see it, but it serves as a sort of diary of images. I update it as much as possible and usually fill one big black hardbound sketchbook up in a year. It’s nice because I can flip through it and remember things about a certain time I had forgotten. Like on one page, there’s a label from a Nature Company candle I burned all summer, and whenever I open that page the scent causes me to remember a certain day with overwhelming intensity.
I also crochet terrible scarves, make jewelry, sculpt ocassionally, and build dinosaur models. And unfortunately, when I cook, it’s usually a little too creative, which causes everyone in my family to run screaming in terror.