Creative Fail

I know that last time I posted I promised I would start the 365 days of creativity challenge... but clearly I am big liar mc. liar pants. I was also held accountable for not posting at all - so here I am - posting. I do it for the mass amounts of readers I am sure were waiting anxiously for more brilliant Branaman babble.

To be honest - there is not a drop of creative juice running through these veins currently. My 12 year old brother has more creative juice in his pinkie toe than I do in my entire being at this moment.

I blame big kid life. The parts of life that leave you responsible for someone else's rent because their life, understandably, takes a turn. The parts of life that stick a screw in the tire of your less than a year old car. The parts that allow you to say yes to a vacation for the month that just so happens to be shaping up to be the most expensive month since you started bringing home a paycheck.

Those parts. Those big kid parts of life that make you want to scream, slash tires, punt small fluffy dogs and maybe even break someone's wedding china for kicks.

I'm not an angry person, and certainly not a spiteful person (in my own well-informed opinion) - but right now I understand those people. How long can you laugh at your own misfortune? Shrug off the fleas biting the bajeezes out of your shoulders?

If I don't go home and find a panda in my backyard - I think all hope is lost. Because a wise person once said: How could you possibly be angry if you found a panda in your backyard. I mean... it's a panda... in YOUR backyard. That's fantastic.