Too lazy to think of a title? Why not Zoidberg?

So I've been absolutely motivated to make something recently. I have all this free time on my hands, with the sudden commencement of summer vacation. So I want to do all the things I've been meaning to do all school year; write a story, draw a picture, sew a hat, weave a basket underwater, anything.

This is what I expected to be. A masterpiece-creating artistic genius. And black.

So I sat down at my computer today, all prepared to write something full of witticism and intricate life lessons. Aaand... nada. I had absolutely no ideas. Mind was blanker than usual; not even a wayward line of song lyrics to be found. I had the will to write, just no muse. No single point of inspiration upon which to focus my genius. I closed the word document in dissapointment.

Perhaps my muse was just this frog, and he was too tiny for my creativity to sense.

How is it that during the year I can be struck with inspiration so acute that I am forced to dig furiously through my backpack for my moleskine at the most inopportune times, and during the summer when I have all the time in the world my creativity is struck dumb? Someone should really work on that. I think it has something to do with the fact that my brain is melting out of my ears because of the heat faster than Michael Jackson's nose melted off his face. I don't want to do anything when it's hot, besides stand in the shower mindlessly, so it is only logical that my imagination is equally as unproductive.

This is me. Imagine this ten times less productive, and that's me during the summer.

(I was going to put a picture of the aforementioned nose, but i googled it and it creeped me out too much.) With any luck, my imagination will kick itself back into gear soon. And if not, well, I guess that's why I'm an art history major, not a fine arts major.

Edit: I was watching that gif after I posted this entry, because I thought it was hysterical the first time I saw it. But then I started thinking about the circumstances behind the octopus's listless tumble and realized that the poor creature is probably suffering. Now I want to track down its owner and demand clarification. Anybody got a pitchfork I could borrow?