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"As one of the first blog writers I have ever read describes herself, I have a &amp;quot;hummingbird&amp;quot; brain. I flit and float and go-go-go, and while this keeps my alter-ego, Ms. Perfection, from OCDing her way into victory, I lose out on the little details that make life so pleasurable. Like a yoga quote, which I&amp;#039;m paraphrasing here from Elizabeth Gilbert&amp;#039;s Eat Pray Love because I&amp;#039;m a lazy butt, you can&amp;#039;t see your reflection in running water. You must stand in front of still water to see it.  That sounds so good on paper. (Or on the computer, as I&amp;#039;m typing it now.) But in my fast paced writing, mothering, wife-ing, caretaking existence, I don&amp;#039;t really care to see my reflection. I am certain that most days I&amp;#039;d see a very happy, but very tired, 38 year old woman with a pony tail, looking up, beseeching me, &amp;quot;Go on a walk. Stop the coffee drinking. Shave your arm pits and have some sex. In that order, for the sake of your husband.&amp;quot; While I&amp;#039;d like to damper my passionate spirit, in fanning the flames I&amp;#039;d likely quench some of the fire that makes me who I am. I mean, if we all had the same personality, how boring would that be? What kind of laughter would I be denying row 7, 8 and 9 if I hadn&amp;#039;t been in such a hurry to get a drink of water at the Alison Moyet concert last month that I tripped on something as inconspicuous as MY OWN SHOE and did a belly flop right into the retro carpeting? I suppose I could have done some yoga bends while I was down there, but even I have some pride and high tailed it to the bathroom.  While I can&amp;#039;t sustain peace and calm, I vicariously live through one of my favorite blogs, The Litterpan. Ms. Chica, an amazing artist with words and visuals, clearly takes the time to craft her work. Being the intelligent and creative soul that she is, however, even she second guesses herself.  &amp;quot;It happens frequently. I engage myself with machine-like precision and endurance completing a series of tedious yet un-glorious task, and I maintain the pace longer than many could, yet ultimately I jump the track due to some inconsequential inconvenience. An inconvenience, that challenges me to get over myself. It&amp;#039;s that minor hiccup, the proverbial straw, that is remembered and dwelled upon, not the head of steam that produced the bulk of the progress. I long to turn off my head some days as I am often my own worst enemy.&amp;quot; Isn&amp;#039;t that the truth? I try to remember that when I&amp;#039;m feeling less than sexual. Would my husband be so critical? Doubtful. In times of insecurity, like when Ms. Chica is painting a portrait, it&amp;#039;s time to slow down, enjoy the beauty, and ultimately, the piece of art that is me, and is in front of me. A flaw to one is an exquisite line to another. Happy Friday. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a22252/crafting-the-positive-in-art-a/>