I've just got quite nostalgic. I'm not sure what it is cuz I'm sure it can't be the fact that it's sunny outside, but yet I've got a heater at my feet, the first whispers of summer.
I was perusing my friends' blog comments and came across a photographer's blog. He had a little contest and I entered. You don't win anything and you're really not in competition with anyone. The "contest" was to get your first poetic impressions of a photo of his before deadline. I did. I entered. I was posted here:
It just reminded me how much I miss poetry, photography, in general creativity. I used to write little poetic ditties while in high school, usually filled with teenage angst. In college, same thing, just adult angst. Most of my poetry was fueled by a thin veil of inspiring depression. Now, life is good, but no poetry comes out. I only feel it when I'm sad, which is a double edged sword. I don't want to be sad, but I want to write. Also, images in my head come from music I hear that inspires me, but so far, there is not really a new album to do so, so here I am, in a circular sphere of viciousness. I also play at being a photographer, but I'm not out there. There are too many distractions here in our 21st century life, I need to learn how to have that take a back seat to creativity. I miss photos, I miss poetry, but perhaps this fall/winter will help my creativity wake up again . . . and hopefully The Dusty Lens will wake up all my senses so that I feel alive with art, once again.