It seems I hear a few “show biz” folks, mainly actresses or writers or whatever starting out, saying how something is healthy for them because it takes them out of their “comfort zone” when it comes to artistic expression.  This rates high on the retch-o-meter for me, just like people who claim they are artists.  When apparently they are not.  Yet, in fairness I do have to pose that question to myself…should I get out of my comfort zone to expand my horizons, artistic expression, whatnot.  In all fairness I must admit:  not.  Don’t wanna go ‘dere.  Truth be told that life itself at certain times in the course of lo these many years I have sojourned, a weary pilgrim, upon Terra, has placed me completely outside of my comfort zones enough.  Crises, disappointments, being trapped somewhere you thought you wanted to be but really found out you were wrong; natural disasters; family tragedies; the pain brought about by inherent klutziness; a system with basic good stamina but sometimes vulnerable…nay, I think not.  I don’t want to venture outside of my comfort zones no mo’!  Just driving to work puts me outside of my comfort zone.  And still, despite not wanting to leave my comfort zones, I don’t feel artistically challenged.  Never experienced writer’s block a day in my life.  I have, in the crunch of a deadline, feasting conveniently on the rather questionable quick meal of Genoa salami, pre stroke days, and coffee, sometimes stared at the computer screen, my chin on my hands…but that’s fomenting mode, not block.  What if I were famous and was being interviewed about my creative process?  What line and brand of manure would be expected of me to spread?  Should one start a business, i.e., Hipwaders R Us?

And on that subject, there was another story, and may God forgive me, that I read online yesterday that I couldn’t help but laugh inappropriately about but will offer prayers…a 29-year-old man and sixteen cows died after inhaling the fumes of a gigantic tank filled with manure.  Wiped them all out  True story.  It was unforgivable of me to wander to the comments section where I said nothing, I tell you, nothing, but kind of lost it when a fiendish poster wrote, “What a crappy way to go.”  Can you imagine writing a mystery and calling it, “Murder by Methane?”  “Moo’ed Over by Murder?”  I know this will require some repentance, and everyone goes on the prayer list.  I can hear one of the nuns at Incarnate Word confronting me when I got the giggles in Mass in second grade when we were preparing for out…gasp…First Communion.  “It’s funny, Jeanne, huh?  It’s funny????????”

 

 

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