Something about a blank piece of paper excites me. Is it the endless possibilities of what I could fill it with that gets me giddy? The joy of getting something creative and whimsical out of me that's merely a motion of my pen away?
It's like when I come in to work, refreshed from a night's sleep and eager to see what I can accomplish that day. I sit down with my fresh coffee, go through my email, and think "Hey, this isn't so bad." Except by 10:15 my caffeine rush has fled the premises and I'm bewildered that only an hour and a half has passed since I've arrived. Already it's felt like eons have passed. Panic follows. I must get through the rest of the day, or I shall be insane by 2:00.
But back to the blank piece of paper. There must be a way of recreating that excitement of possibility, that initial stage of creation when one comes up with an idea and makes the first step toward making something out of nothing.
Creativity continues to be a mystery, an elusive muse that pops up whenever the hell she feels like it. And it's usually in the shower, or in the elevator. Or when I'm about to fall asleep. I should probably do something different to stimulate new thought in the next few days.
Wait a minute! I need to write about Jeff. It was too bizarre an experience not to record in some way. So, next transmission: Jeff and Priscilla. Coming soon!