Advice; it's what we ask when we know the answer but wish we didn't

As it draws to a close, I've been thinking about my time in France. It's been an adventure, that's for sure. It's definately had it's highs and definately had it's lows.
Now, from the corny nature of my first three sentances, you can see my writing has kind of gone down hill right now.
I've had a few moments of creativity when it comes to sketching, drawing and painting. Last night, I watched a lecture from the University of Texas, Austin, about Frida Khalo, which really got my visually creative juices going.
I've had moments when I painted day and night, although there have been not too many of them.
However, my writing has suffered extremely. I haven't written anything good since I was in New Jersey in December, during my last 24 hours in America, and I wrote a bit in Montreal, though nothing earth-shattering.
I've been thinking about it, thinking about what I can do to get my literary juices going. I used to think that I can only write when I'm extremely depressed. On closer inspection, I decided this to be false, I wrote a lot when I was neither depressed nor happy, and have written a lot when I was exceedingly happy. (I was very happy to discover this as I enjoy not being extremely depressed).
I then tested the theory that I only write well when I'm expecting something very very bad or very very good - when I'm sure despite having no reason to be sure. Which explains a lot, because I am very confused right now and, ipso facto, have not been writing.
Another theory is that I've been mixing too many languages, and therefore, I havent been able to work well with words in one language alone. Although, that doesn't really prove a satisfying theory.
Perhaps, it's that I'm no longer in an academic environment.

Whatever it is, I would like it to stop. I want to be creative again. Not being creative is making me feel rather dull.