Everyone’s waiting for me to start painting again…
including me.
It’s bullshit to wait til you’re inspired because when that actually happens
you’re either at work or on the computer or on your phone or washing dishes or feeding the cat or doing laundry or shredding years of paper bills.
I have no one to blame but myself for my lack of artistic pursuits lately.
But then again we’re in a fucking pandemic.
I don’t want to paint roses, women, etc…been there, done that.
So I wait and wait and wait…
so fucking addicting? I hate it and want to wean myself off of it. It’s not like I have a lot of friends to keep up with nor do I get a bunch of likes on my posts. It’s the scrolling part – addicted to seeing photos and addicted to information, I guess? I don’t know. As a creative person, I’m definitely stimulated by words and images.
I know I can do better things with my time…and yet I don’t.
I only draw or get creative when I know I have a deadline.
Otherwise, I’d much rather be doing absolutely nothing, or scrolling. Ugh.
I’m also aware that it’s Mercury Rx and I really should just chill the fuck out and be easy on myself. Why do I beat myself up for not being creative enough?
Roxy’s birthday is August 2, it is still unreal to me that she is gone. The few months since her passing was the strongest connection I had to her. I miss her so much, social media & the internet isn’t quite the same without her.
Smile now, cry later.
Fuck the world.
