Hedonathon, Day 2

On the bottom, a small collection of paint doodles I'll send to Reagan before turning in. That's just the front, I'll be filling in the back after I post this.

On top: a mini painting inspired by a quote from Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine:

"I'm alive," Douglas said. "But what's the use? They're more alive than me. How come? How come?"
And standing alone, he knew the answer, staring down at his motionless feet...

Such words have filled my state of mind like a hand in a glove at certain points in the past couple days.

March is a month of pleasure seeking for me. As long as I can stand it, I will do only the things I want to do*. I broke that rule a little bit today when I typed up 3500 words of Reagan's letters to me, but other than that, I'm enjoying my hedonistic lifestyle.

(*Except I will write to Reagan and keep the kitchen clean, even when I don't feel like doing those things)

I cook. I read. I bake cookies. I paint and draw and write the things I enjoy painting and drawing and writing, not things I feel I should be doing but nobody takes pleasure from, not even me.

Perhaps this is irresponsible, to live a life without struggle and discipline while my husband is suffering through a life of nothing but struggle and discipline, but I know (and am glad) this is a temporary state for me. Instead of fighting the limbo and rootlessness, I'm going to fully revel in having no obligations, not even to myself.

At one point, when I was in a bleak and rebellious mood, I stated that I was going to do as little as possible for as long as I could stand it. Fortunately, that's not actually what happens when I indulge myself and do what I want. I still make art, and still do work I'm pleased with, I'm just not making the mistake of instructing myself to be industrious with it.