Namely, what, exactly, is being measured?
Everybody changes, as we age. I'm almost 60, and, as I look back on my yute (I live in New York, so I have to use the correct lingo), I am amazed at what an addlepated, compulsive, reactive, emotion-driven, knucklehead I was. When I think about what I considered "earth-shatteringly important ideals" back then, I wince. What a waste of energy.
It would be easy to say that I was "more creative" back then, because I had diarrhea of the mouth. You couldn't shut me up, and I was always spouting pseudo-intellectual claptrap. I guess, for some people, they would have considered me to be "a creative intellectual." I also spit out a lot of rather naive little projects and artworks; crowing at each one, as if it were The Mona Lisa.
I probably would have thought I was just a jerk.
These days, I get stuff done. That does mean a lot of compromises, and acceptance of limitations. I don't tilt at windmills, anymore. I hook generators to them.