The Ghost in my Tree

That little white plastic bag is still in my tree, or at least a small part of it. Today is especially cold and windy, yet it flutters in the wind like it still plans on being visible this Spring. I don't know why I haven't done anything about it, actually I like it a bit. Salem and I laid on our backs a few times while trying to catch our breath after a game of 'superhero dinosaurs', and that was when I eventually got him to see the ghost in the tree.

It's cold out, snowy in the shade. I'm starting to feel a bit more tired all the time, and slacking on exercise and diet is always tempting. It's just that time of year when people start to hide in between important feasts, and we all take a bit of time to develop some things about ourselves. I'd like to develop watercolor painting as well as classical guitar, but I'm also tempted to lay on the floor and waste this little bit of free time I've found today. I'm at that phase of parenting, and I won't complain because I love every second of it. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn't overdue for some slightly extended time with myself that isn't work-related.

The talisman around my neck seems to be working. I knew this would be a challenging journey, and it's best to take it slow. I haven't yet talked to Ari about it. I'm not sure why.

I wonder if my friends are still inspired like they used to be. I feel so distant these days, and it's hard to completely catch up over only a few beers and a few classic retro games. Even those times are fewer and farther behind. So, perhaps this is part of my inspiration to seek the path toward another journey. I've always done these alone, and although it's easy to say I am more alone than even, I would be a fool to overlook the fact that I have a family to journey with now. 

Thus, I sigh and lean back. I go to sip a cup of tea that is long cold and empty. I feel creatively inspired, but perhaps afraid to kick it into gear. My paintings speak to me, and I can say that comfortably knowing that that virtually nobody reads this blog anymore. I feel at best when I'm creatively turned on, and I am oftentimes afraid that I will fail upon delivery. That mean I'll set up my paper and brush with fresh paint and water only to create something terrible. 

As I write this, I suddenly feel the uncontrollable urge to create something. I bet it sucks. I'll be back in a bit.

____

Update: it sucked.