outlet - or, the popping balloon

I suppose one reason I've been neglecting you, Blog, is that I've been experiencing some artistic outlets in other ways. I've been getting up earlier than I used to go to bed in order to do Morning Pages before work. These are a practice described by Julia Cameron in her book The Artist's Way, designed to cure writer's block, but they do bring on their own kind of magic to even non-writers. If I can roll over and catch the pen in my hand in the same motion that I turn off the alarm, I can get the dreams down, I'm still sort of half having them as I start to write. And that's really easy, the three pages fill up really quickly with all that description and events. But the slightest little thing can evaporate the dream (I always remember some description I read somewhere as a very young person, something about the dream being as delicate as a spider's web and easily broken on waking, and I think that every time I can't remember what I was just dreaming about seconds ago). Snooze alarm, rolling over and coming to consciousness slowly, conversation with the monkey, getting up to brush teeth, or today when I'd accidentally left my phone (which I'm using as an alarm clock) in the other room. So, when I can't remember the dream, I just write about what's happening (when I get stuck my mantra is "Get it down, get it down," because this time in my life will be so unlike any other that it will be important to look back on these pages to recall all the detail and texture of this time). And so, I haven't been writing those little observations here, as much. Which is not to say that there are certain thoughts that are bloggable and certain ones that lend themselves more to first thing in the morning diarizing.

And then the cable. I got a digital box, all the HBO/Showtime/Cinemax channels, and a PRINTED GUIDE which makes all the difference, that and the little "information" button that tells you what this is, how long it's been on, and what's on next. So, now my time is wasted by richness and artistry, rather than endless home decorating shows. Probably better for my brain, but hard on the heart - tonight was American Beauty, which I hadn't seen since The Before Time (Ellen Part I), and it's very emotional. His speech right at the end about the love he has for all the little things in his life filling his heart like a balloon until he feels like it will burst until he just lets it flow and doesn't try to hold it, and he is swept up in a spirit of gratitude, or however it goes - how much does that sound like what I'm going through? Boo hoo hoo. So, gushy this evening.

And then I've got red stuff all over my life now. And strategically placed a red thing in my office to bring about some Feng Shui magic. Is that wrong? Is that silly? But it's working! I mustn't be afraid or spook. I have to keep wanting what I wished for, even as it comes true and scares me, right?

I am DEFINITELY making too big a deal of this. I am my own woman, I am surrounded by Mission furniture and red things, I've been sent to Appleton for some reason, and I need to keep focussed on the project. Which is whatever it is.