She called me an artist

My immediate thought was hey, why the hell not? 

I'm not an art student. 

I only lasted a day in the Art History class here at BYU. 

I don't go to museums and I don't really care for learning about famous painters. 

But I enjoy creation. I take pleasure in the joys of beginning with nothing and ending with something. I like the idea, the time to contemplate or to just paint without thinking very much at all. I love the excuse it gives me to step away from the crazy life outside. I really like me when I'm painting. 

So when the lady at the cash register said she wish she could paint and assumed I was some kind of professional artist as I bought a couple of new paint brushes today, I didn't bother to disagree with her. Frankly, I believe, that creation and art should be enjoyed by all people, in every skill level. 

I used to paint when I was younger all the time. I did it because I loved it, and I didn't know that there was any correct way of painting. In a sense, I didn't know that I didn't know how to paint. So I just did. And I wasn't half bad. At BYU, you see a lot of talented people. Amazing talent. 

It's not hard to be intimidated. 

But the other day, I decided that I was going to paint and be a painter for the mere sake of wanting to be. 

No lessons needed. No need to compare my work with others. 

So when asked today if I was an artist, I smiled and said, yes and listened to the lady with the name tag speak the same thoughts I had had plenty of times while looking at art done by the talented students of the BYU Art Department. The thought of, 'man I wish I could do that.' 

Well. . . why can't I? 

So there you have it, good people. 

I'm grateful for the "why the hell not" thought and for the joy I find in painting.