Tuesday, January 11, 2011
It's not like there's nothing to do around here. I have two closets full of clothes that could be decluttered and organized. I could clean out my refrigerator and freezer and stock up with nice, healthy, organic foods. I could be writing the great American novel. Or poem. Or article. Or blog. I am teaching an English class for an online university, and I'm enjoying that.
But I need to be doing something useful. Or creative. Or constructive. Or something.
I came across this blog this afternoon and was so envious of this person's talent. The internet is just full of sites and people like this.
Then I was reminded this afternoon of this wonderful little video/poem, which I love
But I absorb these wonderful works of art and become sad and jealous that I'm as dry as a bone, creatively speaking. And have been for a long time.
I know it's been a hard, destructive couple of years, and I know transitions take some time -- especially when it comes to the Muse. But I'm impatient.
I've been toying with the idea of taking a trip to some place in Europe for a few days, or maybe a cruise. Nothing too extravagant but foreign enough to perhaps kick the pump back into gear. Then I get myself into a morass over all my choices and can't decide between this one or that one. Whereupon I feel the need to go eat ice cream.
sigh . . . . .