Trying to be a chameleon is hard work

I think there is some chameleon in me.  I see something that mesmerizes me and I want to BE it.  I crawl toward it. 

Like this, over here.   Or this. 

I climb all over it and look really hard and try to figure out how to crawl into that skin.

You know, so I can do this.    

I can spend a whole lot of time trying to make myself match those wonderful, wonderful things.  Like this... who wouldn't want to do this?

But really, I'm not a very good chameleon. And that's probably a good thing.  After I wear myself out trying to do things that look like something that's not me, I remember what it is I can do. I remember I like things simple and clean.  I like to see the white of the page.  I remember that what I do isn't great, it isn't perfect, but it reflects me.   For today, anyway.

Tomorrow, I'll probably crawl off toward some other wonderful thing and start trying to change my skin again. 

** All of this is to stay that I'm putting away the acrylic paints, packing up the box of stencils, and closing the journal full of dreadfully ugly, messy, over-wrought attempts at art journal pages I've made today.  I'm putting my pretty flowered cotton table cloth back on the table, and setting out the polka-dotted vase of white roses, and I'm gonna just relax and breathe easily again.  Trying to be a chameleon is hard work.