On being.

be.

Sometimes, I have a lot to say.

(And sometimes, I don't have anything at all worthwhile to say, but I babble on anyway, making a bunch of cooing and gurgling noises like a beached sea creature, but burbling proudly, because this is who I am, people.)

More and more lately, I've been feeling more visual than wordy.  Like, I wish I could kind of just transmit images directly to your brain like some kind of science fiction telepath.

Of course, that's kind of what the internet is, isn't it?  Instagram, anyone?

Today, though, I just kind of feel like being.

I don't want to share any thinkythinks.  I don't even really want to think, even.  I just kind of want to listen to the rain and the dog snoring and feel the slightly bitter tea on my tongue and breathe a little.

It's kind of a creative pause.  

Things tend to go in cycles for me:  I do this kind of inhalation, where I'm hoovering up all the inspiration and my brain can't get full enough of colors and words and everything.  Then there's a pause between movements, where it all just stands still, just for a day or two.  Then it all comes flying out of me like a flood.  I get tons of things done, and tons of things started.  The ball is rolling out of control, really, getting ready to smush Indiana Jones into paste for being an insolent idol thief.

roll, roll, roll

Anyway, I'm in a pause.

This should be interesting.