Inspiration whore

Right now I'm needing inspiration. That's one thing I miss about switching majors, just having the pre-assigned time each week to be creative and get your hands dirty. I neglected it when I had it. I remember over thinking my assignments and obsessing over my work, spending 3 class sessions on an eye. I understand now what my professors were pushing me to do, just create. Not make a master piece, not create something to sell, shit...not even necessarily make something that would be considered good. Just create. Sometimes it's just the process that matters, the result is just the icing. I have so few instances where I can utilize that mentality these days.
When I was a child I used to sit at my kitchen table every morning before school and just draw, usually my dreams. It didn't matter what the drawing was, it was just the act of creating something that mattered. Something personal, something that was mine, and something that was real.
I haven't painted in over a year but I can recant in graphic detail the last (several) times I've sat in dive bars  slamming shots of tequila within the last month.
I should change this.
I will change this.
Life is too short to spend time reflecting on the shit you didn't do, the things you've missed, and the steps you didn't take to make your mark on the world.

...Jesus Christ, I'm sounding like a motivational speaker.

Side note; I went to a "Leadership Conference" at UCSD today which consisted of about two hundred plus wide eyed, kitten heal slouchy boot wearing, prepubescent, sorority sisters learning the art of how to open a savings account and how to properly engage in small talk.

Why was I there?
Good question.

Papa was a rollin' stone

I can think of no better way to nurse this tequila hangover than curling up on my couch, snuggy clad, melting to the soothing melodies of Morcheeba and reading about my favorite Austrian figurative painter, Egon Schiele....

Bliss.

Gray Days

Glorious morning run.

Serotonin overload

After posting yesterday's "feel good" blog I felt inspired to committ to the ultimate symbol of happiness.

(Serotonin)

I had been planning on getting that particular tattoo for quite some time and yesterday's attitude adjustment finally gave me the motivation I needed to go through with it.

After getting the tattoo I opted crack open a bottle of Cabernet and bury my nose in a book.

If that wouldn't be considered a glorious evening, than I just don't know what is.

Looking forward to my bi-weekly beach run and Pilate's tomorrow morning!

And finally...

(Sigh) ^ it's just THAT good!

Ponchos for peace...of mind.

So I've promised myself not to complain or have negative thoughts for the rest of the day. Whadda-yuh say we alleviate this hurricane of negativity in Adele's frontal lobe? Shall we? Ok! I have way to many things to be excited about....like my three (yes, THREE) new ponchos. Retail therapy wasn't one of the proven treatments for depression I learned about last summer in my intro to counseling class, but it's a therapeutic technique that I strongly feel deserves further research. Extensive research.

It's a new day, I'm glad to be here. It's a fresh spring so let's sing....

It's time to regroup, recharge, and reactivate my motivation.

Dear Funk, be gone. I'm moving on.

Elton John is still stuck in my head

...YOU ARE HOME.

This is the level I'm on today..

...And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak!
"Come, Boy," she whispered,
"come and play."
"I am too old and sad to play,"
said the boy.
"I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?"
"Cut down my trunk
and make a boat," said the tree.
"Then you can sail away...
and be happy."
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.