Tumblr?

My husband turned thirty today!  I did everything I could to make the day easy, relaxed, and enjoyable.

We worked on painting our tetris shelves; we went to breakfast at Persy's (DEfuckingLICIOUS); we chillaxed; we watched MONK; We cuddled; we got fine cheeses and bread to eat for dinner; we were very kind and pleasant and loving.

In a bit we will be more romantic...  I mean, we already did that this morning too, but we'll do more of it...

But the thing I wanted to write about was the fact that he started a Tumblr page.  Account?  I'm not even sure what Tumblr is/does, other than have the best fucking pornographic images on the net. 

So I went and checked it out.  And it made me sad.  Sad because I am not and never will be a VISUAL ARTIST.  I'm not a photographer, a sculptor, a painter.  I don't draw or sketch.  I can't do much more than open photoshop before I'm hopelessly lost. 

So it loooks like I won't have a tumblr. 

I don't usually let the fact that I am not a VISUAL artist bother me.  It irks me sometimes when working on a show, but usually I accept the things I cannot change and move on.  But I've always kinda wished I could express myself like that. 

Instead my art lies in how I ...what?  Interpret a role someone else has written?  Perform a song someone else has composed?  Direct people to stand and move in a play someone else has created?

Yeck.

Or, dare I fantasize that my art lies in how I string words together?  That I am an artist of a writer? 

No.  Not even remotely. 

I'm pretty great at sex, but I'm not sure that's a visual art, as I am in the worst shape of my life.

So what would I do on my tumblr?

Sigh.

I'll just have to press my nose to the window of visual genius.  Shivering out in the cold I'll wistfully gaze at the pictoral party.

but I'm happy to have had a lovely day with my tri-decade man!