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Don't get me wrong. I'm not getting out of WRITING. I just feel like writing for my own benefit today, not the world's (or even just the-small-part-of-the-world-that-might-read-this-blog). I don't feel like working within a box on a screen. This is a big page, spread-out-on-the-floor sort of planning-writing. Actually I think what I'm aiming for is one of those Dream Board things, plotting out what I want from life in a big live Pinterest board (which I say as someone who doesn't use Pinterest).
What I actually ended up doing was drawing this:
Kind of the opposite extreme of creative thinking. What I'm really aiming for today is something between typing in a little box and drawing dreamy treescapes on large paper. What I'm really hoping for is reconciling the soul that feels swirly and treeish with a mind that likes to express itself in words. With a body that stumbles, cluttered and distracted, through a day-to-day world that's clamoring for attention and never quite getting it. Always discounting that body, and it's always tripping me up. Oh well.
Off to think on paper.
What I actually ended up doing was drawing this:
Kind of the opposite extreme of creative thinking. What I'm really aiming for today is something between typing in a little box and drawing dreamy treescapes on large paper. What I'm really hoping for is reconciling the soul that feels swirly and treeish with a mind that likes to express itself in words. With a body that stumbles, cluttered and distracted, through a day-to-day world that's clamoring for attention and never quite getting it. Always discounting that body, and it's always tripping me up. Oh well.
Off to think on paper.
