At this moment, I am filled with a wild, pent-up creative urge. (Of course I am. I'm trying to write some cover letters for job applications when, let's face it: I'd rather be doing anything else in the world. Need your gutters cleaned out? I'm your woman. Haven't balanced your checkbook in years? I'll get right to it. Need help applying hemorrhoid cream? Sure!)
Perhaps I took that a little too far.
At any rate, I'm looking around at various things I've started and wondering if they should be picked up at this moment. I had a little box I was making. I had a song I was writing. I haven't made a greeting card for awhile. Do I feel enough inspiration to take a stab at a second poem?
I want to sing, I want to make music, I want to paint with my fingers and toes, I want to record myself talking and experimenting with noises, I want to try to make a souffle, I want to take pictures of people's facial expressions when they don't know anyone's watching, I want to make collages of found objects, I want to speak only through drawings and pantomime...
I did a step in the right direction. I have a friend who's organizing a little "show" at a local coffee shop and asked for submissions of various pieces of writing--the only requirement was that it had to fit on one page. I submitted four things. It's just a little tiny event in my neighborhood but it's a step toward making something I created public and it feels weird.
Remember that guy that invited me to submit to his book on stories about mothers and daughters? Well, I looked into it further. He wants stories of inspiration and triumph and strength in mother/daughter relationships. *Gag, cough* No thanks. If I want to blow sunshine out my ass I'll find another way to do it.