201 Ways to Arouse Your Creativity

Found an article by Katie Tallo.

"Creativity is like sex. You fumble your way through, you get lost in it, you fall in love. Both are passionate, rhythmic, pleasurable, and flowing. Both can bear fruit. And both can rack your soul with vulnerability, bliss, fear and awkwardness."

These were my favorites:

1.)Talk to a stuffed animal.
2.) Try free writing.
3.) Take a shower and give yourself a clean start.
4.)Write from a persona.
5.)Go somewhere new with a pen and notebook.
6.)Listen to new music.
7.) Write crap.
8.) Finish something.
9.) Start in the middle.
10.) Work on the title.
11.) Do an info-dump.
12.) Sing in the shower.
13.) Consume information.
14.) Carry a notebook everywhere.
15.) Keep a journal.
16.) Do experiments.
17.)Define a clear purpose.
18.) Clean your working space.
19.)Look at art.
20.) Re-name the colors in a box of crayons.
21.) Go to a coffee shop.
22.) Let go.
23.) Fool around.
24.) Read a page of the dictionary and note odd/unique words.
25.) Don't hold back.

Shakespearian Insults

OWNED!!!!!!! Found here.

Your virginity, your old virginity is like one of our French wither'd pears: it looks ill, it eats drily 


[Thou] blunt monster with uncounted heads! 


You speak unskilfully: or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice. 


O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified. 


There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune. 


Thou puking half-faced fustilarian! 


Thou cockered ill-breeding foot-licker! 


I never knew so young a body with so old a head. 


Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! 


Thou currish full-gorged hugger-mugger! 


I make as good use of [thine face] as many a man doth of a death's-head, or a momento mori. 


[Thine] sole name blisters our tongues. 


[You] speak an infinite deal of nothing. 

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

This is a poem written by Mary Frye in 1932. She wrote it on a shopping bag.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die. 

I found this on wikipedia via stumbled upon here .