I’ve never believed in muses. The idea that some one or some place or some thing would inspire you, make you, prompt you to draw, think, write, or create more…well, no I don’t believe it. What a burden to the muse. What happens when it changes, moves, bends, shifts, then what, no more? The writing stops. The art stops. The music stops. The creativity stops. I mean, how long does this muse thing last? Is it a month, a year, a week. Nope, I didn’t believe it. And then…Houston (and it has become a problem).
Maybe this writing has only happened because I found this slice of life challenge. Or maybe I’ve only found this slice of life challenge because …well, because Houston? Maybe I wake up and write and exercise because that’s what I’ve always wanted to do but never did it. Or maybe because…well, because Houston? Maybe this new plan to have my students guide me instead of vice versa is something that’s always been within. And it has been, every year I say this will be the year that I turn things over to my students. Every year I say this will be the year I get active, this will be the year that I start and finish this master’s program, this will be the year that I will write more, drink less, draw more, create, do, and be. Maybe this is just the same old year. Or maybe, Houston? Is it a problem?
I wrote this last night. Things can change that quickly. Muse? No. A bad case of unrequited infatuation.