I think that I have a brain tumor.
I've been attacked by these bursts of creativity. It all started with a my cat sitting at our dining room table as if he were a seated human guest. I took a picture. I snapseeded it. For a lark, I put the photo into Penultimate and drew the standard mustache, goatee, and angry eyebrows that are the hallmark of stereotypical photo vandalism. My son saw what I did and immediately wanted to give it a shot. He added bloodred eyes and dripping blood to the cat's mouth and captioned the photo with "I am a monster!" This revealed the possibility of drawing new eyes for the cat.
Whatever I did, my son twisted it. This, in turn, pushed my creativity further. I saw new things that could be done with the photo.
I've completed fourteen portraits of my cat so far. It's only been like three days. I can't stop. I've transformed the cat into a professor, Paul Stanley, Mad Headroom, Wendy (of Wendy's), a nun, a fruit ninja, and Groucho Marx (above). I feel the need to parody famous works of art and corporate logos. I can't stop.
I am reading this book on creativity entitled Imagine by Jonah Lehrer. In illustrating one of the discoveries regarding the machinery of creativity, he mentioned a type of brain tumor can causes unbelievable bursts of creativity.
I now believe that I have this tumor.
I'm also feeling these remarkable bursts of this heightened tranquility and joy during the last 5-7 minutes of my run. It's completely odd and completely noticeable. My senses are clearer. Maybe it has to do with the time of year and the fact that I am starting with my nightrunning. I don't know.
It's probably a tumor.