A Request to the Universe

It’s things like this plant that make me love the holiday season. I look forward to pink poinsettias every year. When I was unemployed, for the first time about eight or nine years ago, I was a little depressed and discouraged. My soon to be mother-in-law gave me the prettiest pink poinsettia to cheer me up. I buy one every year to elevate my spirits, kick off the holiday season and bring a festive atmosphere to my home.

Since winning the photography contest, all I want to do is shoot pictures. I am obsessed with looking for light. That is not happening a whole lot this week with the numerous obligations I have. I am not ignoring most of them, I am just too tired to do them.

And, again, I ask, who in the hell decided we needed to work an eight hour day? Seriously? I am convinced that is why so many Americans have big asses. We sit all damn day, eat and gossip. Except in my department at work. I have commented before it is the quietest creative team I have ever worked with EVER. I am naturally loud, so those who really know me know it is killing me having to tone back who I am.

Since I work to live (not live to work, there is a huge difference), I need constant stimulation to be and stay creative. That means, music, color and some lively conversation. Personally, I can not create in silence. It makes me in-freakin’-sane! I am not complaining, just putting my request, out to the universe, for a more energized, fun, nurtuing department. I don’t put things like this out there unless I am actually doing my part to help and I AM doing my part. I don’t believe you can be a complainer who does nothing to make a situation better. I am all about the win-win. I like to win, but not if that means bringing someone else down. So, I go for the win-win. If I have to work, it will be creatively stimulating, I will like at least 10% of the people I work with and it will be FUN! Otherwise, there is no point in working somewhere that does not make you insanely happy to get up in the morning and commute for over an hour for eight hours of misery. That is not quality of life.