My mind is completely out of control. I have come to terms with it because there really is no ignoring what nature decides is best for me, and I would disappoint myself if I tried to suppress everything that I see. We all would. When I was little, my room was coated in a pink floral wallpaper. As I fell asleep, faces would pop out of the flowery print, forming from the twisted vines and leaves. The one I always saw was an old woman, adorned in her tilted sun hat. I decided to name her Muriel and each night her story would develop more. After the war, poor old Muriel was left a widow and has since spent her days old and alone, hunched over her pansies. I was six and I couldn’t help it. Whatever demented muse decided to introduce me to Muriel surely got a good kick out of it, but it helped me to understand what my life would be.
There is this unexplainable sub-consciousness that crawls underneath my skin and has always been manipulated by the muses in my life. I can’t even imagine walking through the grocery store like a normal person, without the analysis of the label on a Perrier bottle or the way the bagging boy’s shoelace hits the floor. Everyday, I sit on the edge of my seat waiting to see what will catch my eye and inspire me next. My muses have helped inspire me in my art, which is one of the most rewarding parts of my life.
Art would not have been able to have such a huge impact on me without my ability to isolate inspiration. Honestly, it isn’t really what you see; it’s how you see it. My pre-school teacher was so excited to show my mom the drawing I did when I was three. My mom looked at the scribbles, entirely confused. The teacher then explained that I was the only one who never drew stick figures. Granted, they were blobs with facial features, but they seemed to cause quite the stir.
Everyone sees things differently, and that is what elicits innovativeness. Innovativeness comes and goes whenever and wherever. I sleep with a sketchbook on my nightstand and am always ready to interpret what will jump at me from behind my eyelids at two o’clock in the morning. Such sparks of insight are how I get through the day. So I simply yawn it off and appreciate inspiration in every form; believing in muses helps me justify nature’s strange intentions.
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