A friend, after I told her of my urge to write, told me that I would be the wealthiest person in the world, if all I needed was a pen. I'd like to agree, but the pen doesn't sit as naturally in my hand as a paintbrush does. My head is full of huge ideas and scathing criticism of the world, and I find that my biggest challenge it how to fit them through a tiny opening where the ink flows, ball pointed, or one painful pixel at a time, onto the paper.