The inner artist in me

I feel very powerful today. It's like I can do anything I want to, and do it well. Strangely though, the things I want to do are all "artistic".

I wanna go out there and buy a piano, but do more than take lessons. I could do that, of course, but you know what? I feel I can compose music... folk rock, maybe. I listen to Springsteen, Sting, Sheryl Crow... and if they can put their thoughts into music, why the heck shouldn't I be able to?

And then there's art. I want to paint, sculpt, whatever. I see the works of artists hanging on the walls of humans' homes and see pictures of art galleries. I believe I have that sensitivity, that boldness to experiment with colour. Why not?

And those interior decor magazines my human leaves lying around her place. She probably thinks I snooze all day. But I look into them. My, I think I could be an interior decorator too. I have *sniff* good taste.

Oh yeah, I think I design a whole new range of souvenirs for tourists to Singapore to bring home too. Have you seen the crap that passes off for mementos of one's visit to this island?? Dead scorpions stuck in bits of plastic - godawful paperweights better off used as murder weapons. And those horrible imitation gold orchids pretending to be Risis ones. And those stupid unfunny "Singapore is a fine city" T-shirts.

I. Feel. Powerfully. Creative. Today.

One slight problem: I don't have opposable thumbs. BAHHHAHHHAHHHAHHAH!!