Many moons ago, I was a painter. Well, I made time to paint, for a hobby. I suppose I still am a painter, that's taken a big long break. I can honestly say I will paint again one day. When I painted on my own (not in an academic setting) I was a paint pusher. I never planned out what I was going to create, I just simply put my brush in the paint color that was most appealing and set it free on the canvas. I miss painting. I always felt as if my watercolor paintings had more depth to them, like it was my strength, but I prefered the feeling and ease of a brush in acrylics. I have yet to dabble in oils, all the accoutrements that came along with oil painting just turned me off. It's funny, being a paint pusher that has painting pulling me back.
Thinking of painting in those terms left me with the notion of being a word pusher. Not really setting out to accomplish a particular task, but allowing the words to flow onto the page, from my mind, to my hands, through the G4, and onto the screen, multiple paths for words to take to reach the final resting place.
Here's my Word Pushing for the night:
Agreeable, sounds awfully skewed by chance,
invested in the profound offering of blissful capabilities,
I laugh at surrender in the morning,
I long for surrender in the night,
misbehaving is far beyond dominance,
it's wild, free, and intense.