Day Job Daydreaming

So here I sit with my desk awash in Grant Progress Reports for the state and stacks of scribbled sticky notes each with it's own item to do. There is a cold cup of coffee and cell phone near the keyboard. And a storm rolling in from the western sky into the open door of my office. A thunderstorm capable of producing damaging.......la la la la la. I have turned off the radio and I can feel the approaching storm. I can smell the rain and hear the roll of thunder. Right now is when I am most motivated to create. In this moment I could create a masterpiece from the scraps on my desk. The grey newsprint to capture the threatening clouds and the yellow sticky notes to show the light refracting under the cloudline. I have markers and pens, pencils and white-out. I have coffee to stain in a ground cover color and past due stickers conveniently colored in blue and green hues. I have all I need right in front of me except the time and freedom to do it. So here I sit trying to produce a very important document and realizing that it's importance is miniscule compared to the beauty and natural wonder right outside my office door.

A World In My Mind

It never ceases to amaze and inspire me how the tiniest event or gesture can have a ripple effect and turn epic. Each and every one of us has a voice and a special purpose. Maybe I am getting older (Since 30 is far beyond the popular medias' definition of young.) or maybe I am simply maturing. It seems as though I have lost touch with the movements of the young. The feeling that all things are possible has somehow lessened over time. Having children and being responsible for them in every way. A loss of freedom and spontaneous gratification seems overwhelming at times. And then someone smiles at me or asks how I am. The trapped feeling lessens because I am reminded that I am making the right decisions. I am living right, and my family is healthy and safe and we have a home to relax and enjoy ourselves in. I used to imagine that I was all alone and that no one anywhere understood why I was un-happy. Then I realized that there are literally millions of people who feel this way. And I wasn't un-happy, I was un-grateful. A butterfly doesn't cry even knowing that it's time is short. It flies and goes about the instinctual tasks that it needs to do to survive. Small gestures really do make a difference. If, as an artist, I can illustrate or accentuate these moments and events so that people can see them and feel as if someone has just smiled at them, then I am happy. I want to embrace the small things in life and put aside the constant hum of the TV, radio, traffic and politics. We will all have to deal with the outcome of all of these things soon enough. As far as getting older, bring it on!