JUST CALL ME PICASSO

I know my limitations, and those limitations pretty much begin when I pick up a colored writing implement and attempt to create something along the lines of ART. It rarely ends up as ART.

Today, I began what will be a four-week course called the Bluegrass Writing Project. It's under the auspices of the National Writing Project, for those that care, but I'm guessing most of you won't. Most of you are asking what sort of drug I was smoking the day that I decided to take four weeks out of the six or seven weeks I actually get of vacation to do "more school."

So, most of the attendees have had, at the very minimum, 7 days to relax ... to recoup ... to sleep in ... to sit and drool. Me? I've had none! I had to hit the ground running on Saturday due to an appointment and a few MUST DO errands. Sunday was spent reading for the class today. I've not had any time to decompress, debrief, and, more to the point, decompose.

Today, my brain literally buzzed the entire day. It was almost like being directly under a very large bee hive ... static ... nothing but a bunch of static.

One of the last exercises of the day was, as the facilitator explained, a vehicle to put down on paper, a visual representation of what this day was like for us. She placed construction paper and crayons down in front of us and gave us time to create.

I created this piece. It's done on my new favorite color, pink, and it's basically a colorful depiction of what is going on in my brain, STATIC. In the center are the letters B G W P, which stands for the Bluegrass Writing Project. You'll notice it's amidst my static.

Okay, so as art goes, this isn't finding it's way into a gallery any time soon. Still, I thought it was a relatively good rendition of Megan's Brain On No Break. That was until the first person got up to share. Thank God in Heaven that I was too tired to raise my hand to volunteer to show my piece, as the first volunteer showed his amazingcartoon drawing. Dude could have a job as a caricature artist should the teaching gig get old! It was amazing.

Then the next volunteer raised her hand, and it was at this point, as I got a good look at her rendering, that I quickly flipped my pink paper over, and commenced to looking inconspicuous. She drew an oasis for heaven's sake, only to be rivaled by the beach scene of the woman next to her.

OH. MY. GOSH. I swear if they make me draw again, I'm throwing myself off of the top of the very historic building we're meeting in!