The mouse ran up the clock

As I was folding laundry tonight in the dank, basement-like area that acts as my building's laundry room, I heard a rustling on the other side of the door that leads to the "backyard." My blood started pounding through my veins as I invented all sorts of reasons why there was a scratching and a scraping outside that door. I double checked the deadbolt and clutched the still-warm towel to my chest, frozen in fear. And then a small head appeared. A mouse wriggled under the door frame, saw me, and backed out as fast as he could in a whirl of fur and with much scrabbling and scratching.

All I could do was laugh, my face buried in the towel.

It's been a busy weekend. Saturday I spent working on a couple books and editing photos, then spent my evening out on the town. First stop was "Night of the Blackbird," put on by UB's MFA program and held at the Theatre Project (check out their website, they do some amazing stuff there). My professor read his poetry, and some friends of mine performed with their band. It was really wonderful, and I needed it.

Then I joined Leah and Co. for my birthday celebration, and although people slowly trickled away, Leah and I had a wonderful time at Bertha's Mussels in Fells Point watching June Star play. I don't think I stopped tapping my foot the whole time (which says a lot, since I'm not a dancer, and that's about as exuberant as I get at a concert).

Today I worked on cleaning up the apartment a little, did some more photo editing, and then headed out for a photo walk at Roland Lake and Druid Hill Park (home of the Baltimore Conservatory and Botanical Garden). It was a solitary afternoon, just me and my camera.

And in all the time I had alone this weekend, I thought a lot about the ups and downs I've gone through in the past year, and have walked away with two realizations. Realization the first is that I am bone-chillingly afraid of being "normal," which to my mind means having no artistic or creative life. I am desperate to do something with myself: photography, drawing, bookmaking, writing, painting, something. And I do those things. But I spend a lot of time feeling like a phony, which sends me spiraling into the thought that those are just straws I grasp at to feel a little bit more like there's something in me besides 9 to 5 working day drone status.

Realization the second was moderation. I need more of it. Ave made a good point the other day when he said (in so many words) that I tend to try to do everything all at once, and it's no surprise that it doesn't last. It just takes too much energy, and when I drop the ball it leaves me feeling miserable. So, I'm not going to "quit" doing anything, but I am going to take things a little more slowly, do what I can when I can.

And now, I need to go curl up with Langston Hughes and get some sleep, but I leave you with some photos from this weekend.