Has It Really Been So Long?

I've been in school since May of last year. Haven't written a post on this blog since I started. I've been busy with classes. With work. I fell in what my hormones decided was love. (They were wrong.) Other things happened, to me and to people I love. Somewhere in all that, I stopped writing. I stopped creating. When I made it to writing group, I did homework. I stopped exercising.

All that energy has to come out somewhere. My dreams have been dark and twisted and nightmarish, yet even while they're happening, some part of me says "Wow. This is some good stuff here." Sometimes, I think the only reason I'm not certifiable is that I am taking Art Appreciation this semester, which at least forces me to look and think about art, even if I'm not making any myself. Until this week, when I did the non-representational-demonstrate-principles-of-design-and-elements-of-art collage project for class.

Now, I love making collages. Haven't done it in years, but that's not the point. The point is, despite having to follow rules (oh! the horror!) I created something I like, and I had a good time doing it. I have lots of leftover bits of paper. And glue. And no one to please but myself. So why am I writing instead of making a collage?

I don't know. What I do know is that I need to do a better job of scheduling creativity and exercise into my routine. This all work and no play....it's not working. So tomorrow, I'll actually write during writing group. Maybe talk a walk in the park afterward. Find some way to let my right brain get its ya-yas out on a regular basis. The Anatomy Coloring Book doesn't count.

Best-laid Plans

I originally had this idea that I would be starting school in a state of calm preparedness; caught up on math, ready for algebra, physically fit, disciplined, everything organized to make my 5am-11pm or later days flow smoothly. Yeah. Not so much. Chaos reigns.
Because I decided that I needed to repaint my room now, all of my stuff is crammed into the closet or shoved into the small guestroom. My freshly painted old dresser is out on the patio; everything it held is stuffed into a couple of drawers somewhere else. We got our new kitten yesterday. I am revamping my first novel into a Young Adult book for a submission to an e-publisher. I've reverted to stress-eating, a series of minor injuries keeps thwarting my workouts.
And it's okay. Somehow it will all turn out well. How? I don't know. It's a mystery.