He upset her so.
She sat down with her anger.
And. She ate 15 apples in one sitting.
She felt like she might die.
But. She didn't.
Grateful.
She drew a picture.
She entered it into a contest.
It won.
Her prize was.
An apple.

Why is creativity so satisfying?

I have an idea. Could it be because our selves don't exist without it. We are our expression? If we don't express ourselves, we don't exist. If we don't express ourselves what are we but simple machines. It is our inner ore that makes us beautiful. It can't be seen by the naked eye unless it is manifest somehow in the physical world. Art, creativity,

Our bodies are vacant spacecrafts. Or lifeless puppets; marionettes. I hate it when I make the mistake of acting as if my body and mind are a part of Me. They are not. They are material and I am not a material girl. Stop pleasing the body, stop coddling the mind.

My biggest and probably only fears are losing control of my mind and death by suffocation. Suffocation. Shareen said that she'd be cool with the earth ending in flood and I was like no, no fire. I can't stand the idea of drowning, or being trapped somewhere without air. I'm mildly claustrophobic, and feel incredible empathy for people who are choked or have plastic bags placed over their heads in movies. Being trapped, being out of control of my fate, having no choices. If anyone wanted to know what really gets me. That's what gets me. I'd never want my hands bound, or to be locked in a small space; a cell. A place in Africa where captured slaves were stored before being shipped out to sea had within it what was essentially a tomb for slaves. They'd be placed in this small stone room, and locked in without food or water or good reason, and left to die. They say that today there are marks left where people appeared to have tried to claw themselves out with their fingernails. Hmmm I just had a comforting thought that greatly threatens my fear. The thought was that, for those who believe that they are more than this body or this mind would have the ability to escape spiritually.
I was watching the first episode of Saturday Night Live circa 1975, and I started to feel trapped. Trapped in time. I'm trapped in a time where people are distracted and hateful and dead. I am one of those people, sometimes I manage some form of resuscitation but these times are relentlessly diabolical and lethal to the spirit. When I look at the past I see freedom, I see life, the farther back the more adventurous the life of the everyday person. True the level of pain, hardship, struggle and other nouns in this family were high in the times of the living but I'd take it. I swear I'd choose it if it would wake me and others up. Rouse us indefinitely. And I mean hardship, struggle and blatant injustice still exist, it's just not in our homes, on our televisions, it's not on our favorite channels.
I'm not in a place where I can travel spiritually, so I feel trapped. Trapped inside me, in my city and state, in 2009.