Dreadhead

I should have dreadlocks. I wonder where they got that name, cause the people who wear them seem so mellow, perhaps through the aid of certain recreational drugs. Ehhhh, no dread here, mon! I woke up with a head full of dread this morning. I still don't understand why that happens. Nothing particularly onerous today, I did have to deal with a doctor's office phone call about scheduling issues over my still distant spectre of a hernia operation, but that's it, and come on, it's not much. All I have scheduled for today is making cookies for a community meeting tomorrow night and running, and I had thought I would try to be in the studio a couple of hours today... is that it?

On the back burner, however, there does seem to be a lot of junky thinking on the simmer.... double double, boil and bubble... worries about money, about financial issues I need to deal with. I think it's high time I consult a financial advisor about some investments my mother left me that seem to not be doing so well and I think I have to look at them now because of some tax implications next spring. Oh ugh. It may be high time, but I don't feel any where near ready. That definitely makes me want to go back to bed. Can I set the snooze alarm to go off again in another 100 years or so? I feel so freakin incompetent when it comes to money. Julia Cameron (you know, the lady who wrote The Artist's Way, self help guru to the creatively constipated) says there are people who are addicted to poverty. I may be one of them. My family fought so much over money I freak out and run when I have to consider financial questions.

Today I can deal with the cookies. The studio? That's so hard. You see, the studio is where you go to access that inner stuff, and when the inner stuff is fear and loathing, it's not very easy. I wonder where my sketchbooks are? This is the sort of thing that may be easiest dealt with in a cartoon...