Of inspiration and whimsy
I must admit. I haven't really felt like myself lately. Maybe it's all the crap that's been going on. Lotsa crap. Not a big person for dealing with this sort of stuff, after all.
Watching Project Jay on Wednesday night really made me want to draw something again. I can't claim I ever had any fantastic artistic ability, but it was always a fun thing to do. I haven't done that in a long tine, and that sort of bothers me. I suppose I just haven't felt inspired. In the end, I always come back around to inspiration - what it means to me, what it means in general. Perhaps because it's always something I feel is lacking in my life.
Tom Robbins (my veritable intellectual hero) said on the subject of writer's block, simply put, that no such thing exists so long as you have the balls to write what's really on your mind.
At the moment, I could be emo. I could be whiny and dramatic, lament the nature of my problems (that we all have) and my lack of luck in life (not really the case, my concerns simply seem to have appeared a few years ahead of time relative to my peers). And though I'm a firm believer in the truth and beauty of emotions in their moment, I find myself not so concerned about these dilemmas of mine at the moment. No, what's on my mind, the thing I want to write about right now... is dinosaurs.
I have a reasonably large variety of very cheap plastic dinosaurs scattered about the desk-type areas of my room. I should point out that one wall of my room is more or less half desk (note to self: the room is clean, and photographs were promised), for a matter of scale. The dinosaurs, they are numberous. I like my quadrapedal dinosaurs the most, for a variety of reasons. Primarily, they just look more balanced than the somewhat awkwardly balanced bipedal plastic dinosaurs. Now, I imagine that you are wondering why oh why do I have these dinosaurs. The reasons are important, and they are many. The basic reason is of course because my girlfriend gave them to me for Christmas. The story behind that involves the great and whimsical Wash from Firefly. But the reason I keep them around is a very different matter.
All the permanent fixtures on my desk, the knick-knacks and silly odds and ends (like Rawlings the baseball, my Mayan temple paper weight, and the remains of my corsage from homecoming my senior year) have a purpose, a reason they hold a place of honor. I can look nowhere on my desk without, even out of the corner of my eye, seeing my dinosaurs. The other things, they're mostly memories, ideas, things that mean something to me that I don't want to forget. The dinosaurs, though, they're something different. The dinosaurs are there to remind me that I should never forget a part of myself that I love. Never forget the simple, whimsical joy of the fantastic. Never forget the fun of making a fool of yourself with silliness.
Never forget the secret smile on that stegosaurus's face.
Watching Project Jay on Wednesday night really made me want to draw something again. I can't claim I ever had any fantastic artistic ability, but it was always a fun thing to do. I haven't done that in a long tine, and that sort of bothers me. I suppose I just haven't felt inspired. In the end, I always come back around to inspiration - what it means to me, what it means in general. Perhaps because it's always something I feel is lacking in my life.
Tom Robbins (my veritable intellectual hero) said on the subject of writer's block, simply put, that no such thing exists so long as you have the balls to write what's really on your mind.
At the moment, I could be emo. I could be whiny and dramatic, lament the nature of my problems (that we all have) and my lack of luck in life (not really the case, my concerns simply seem to have appeared a few years ahead of time relative to my peers). And though I'm a firm believer in the truth and beauty of emotions in their moment, I find myself not so concerned about these dilemmas of mine at the moment. No, what's on my mind, the thing I want to write about right now... is dinosaurs.
I have a reasonably large variety of very cheap plastic dinosaurs scattered about the desk-type areas of my room. I should point out that one wall of my room is more or less half desk (note to self: the room is clean, and photographs were promised), for a matter of scale. The dinosaurs, they are numberous. I like my quadrapedal dinosaurs the most, for a variety of reasons. Primarily, they just look more balanced than the somewhat awkwardly balanced bipedal plastic dinosaurs. Now, I imagine that you are wondering why oh why do I have these dinosaurs. The reasons are important, and they are many. The basic reason is of course because my girlfriend gave them to me for Christmas. The story behind that involves the great and whimsical Wash from Firefly. But the reason I keep them around is a very different matter.
All the permanent fixtures on my desk, the knick-knacks and silly odds and ends (like Rawlings the baseball, my Mayan temple paper weight, and the remains of my corsage from homecoming my senior year) have a purpose, a reason they hold a place of honor. I can look nowhere on my desk without, even out of the corner of my eye, seeing my dinosaurs. The other things, they're mostly memories, ideas, things that mean something to me that I don't want to forget. The dinosaurs, though, they're something different. The dinosaurs are there to remind me that I should never forget a part of myself that I love. Never forget the simple, whimsical joy of the fantastic. Never forget the fun of making a fool of yourself with silliness.
Never forget the secret smile on that stegosaurus's face.