Something About Me.When the inspiration to create something wraps its eager fingers around my artist throat, I used to push it away. I'd say, go away, I'm too comfy right now, because I'd usually be in bed, about to fall asleep at the time. After a while, I learned to give in to this late night inspiration, though. If Old Man Writing was begging me to pick up the pencil, i would grab just that and my notebook. If Old Mother Painting was waiting for me spread countless colors across a canvas, I'd grab my easel, a canvas and paints and brushes. But what ever one it was that was begging me to create that night, I would always grab a blanket and a flashlight and he