The Way of Summer

I didn’t plan to be an artist this summer. I planned to write.
Got to love how plans change themselves.

Funny thing is, I keep thinking about writing. My stories keep playing in my head, but I don’t seem interested in putting them on paper.

I’m actually not much into anything right now, but art’s the thing I do the most. Can’t consider reading and watching movies as “doing” things. They’re more like stuff that happens to you, that you submit to. Lots of submitting going on these days.

Does it make sense to say there’s too much sunshine? It’s too hot outside?

I’m in a blue funk. Wandering around at the bottom of a hole in my life. Not especially unhappy. Definitely unmotivated. Feels like pretending sometimes. Around others, I pretend to be the person I usually am. And I guess that’s all right for now. I expect to be back some day.

So, I’m messing around with a lot of stuff right now–crocheting (which is a staple in my life), sewing, reading, writing a little, drawing, painting, studying. Maybe not feeling a lot of enthusiasm, but I expect it’ll come back . . .

Come fall.