Tumor

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.