...when I went into Artiste Mode.

Sometimes I get broody.  At these times, I like to think I'm an artistic genius, suffering the tortuous inspirations of the The Muse.  If I'm feeling REALLY broody (or just plain ambitious), I go to Hobby Lobby and buy art supplies.  I am now the proud owner of three sets of art media - pastels, acryclic paints, and watercolors, none of which I know how to use.

This past weekend, I decided to conquer my watercolors.

I thought,

The little muse inside of me said,

After about six seconds, I realized I had no idea what I was doing.

But that didn't stop me.  With a modified attack plan, I forged ahead, creating a twisted and sinister experimental piece, a direct result of the moody, broody, tortured state of  my mind.

But my feeling of triumph and satisfaction didn't last long.  It never does for those of us who are burdened with The Muse.

I tried again.  And again.  And again.  Until I had succeeded.

I wasn't ready to quit brooding, so I kept painting.  But after all the creative energy I'd spent, I had nothing left to distract my mind.  I painted and painted, and pondered and pondered, until eventually I arrived at the point of no return.  The point of irretrievably irrelevant conclusions based on evidence gathered from a world that does not actually exist.

And that's when I decided I was done painting for the day.