My life revolves in phases. My words and opinions are almost consistently middle of the road, as is, unfortunately, my artwork. Yet my brain has not had the good grace to find a happy medium between overdrive and vegetation. For a week or more at a time, I'll find hidden reserves of energy and ambition, I'll pull up old desires and goals, and I'll spend every waking hour improving my life and pursuing my dreams. During these periods, I sleep less and I am less attentive to my wonderful girlfriend, who often doesn't understand my cycles. I still eat good meals during these times only because she makes me. But when I'm not in turbo mode, I shif