I think it was the girl...One of my children has jammed a penny into the SD slot of my computer. The inner crazy woman in me, that I have to pacify with "ooooh, one of these days, boom bow straight to the moon!" rhetoric wants to go H.A.M. sammiches right now. But the inner inner INNER hippie is tucking sunflowers behind my ears singing "all we need is love." *sigh* In 2014 I didn't paint, draw, and barely barely wrote a thing (except the occasional crude tweet). I kept waiting on inspiration to strike, motivation to pull me outa bed, tenacity to kick me into gear. Nothing happened, until I realized that I just have to GO. Do it. Sketch anything. Pick up my brush and paint something, no matter if it was shitty just STOP procrastinating. Be like Francis Underwood without all the murdering. And so I did. I did a drip painting over a thin broadstroked painted background of acrylic cool tones. I spent two days and six hours on it. A drop in the bucket compare to the time I've put into other works. I really love it too, like it's the last thing I look at every night before bed and naps. Inspiration, tenacity, motivation...eh? I can't say I got a surge of artist adrenalin but I feel like going on, you know? I may never be the great artist, or a published writer, but that's not why I do it. I do it because it makes me feel more alive. It's like getting out of a stuffy party, filled with incessant talking and stepping around toward the back part of the building for a dose of quiet and clean air. -Grace K.