Inspiration can come in the least likely of places. Michelangelo found beauty in math. That kid from American Beauty found it in a plastic bag billowing in the wind. I find it every day on the subway to work. Muses are elusive things. You can’t force inspiration. It comes like dust in the wind, happening to land upon the windows it may. Or like bee, pollinating flowers. 

It can be frustrating when inspiration doesn’t strike. Writer’s block, artist’s block, or whatever-you’re-into block is an emotionally tormenting experience. You stare at a blank page waiting for something to happen. I find that the best thing to do in these situations is to take a walk. Stroll around the neighborhood and see what’s good. Who knows, your next muse might be lurking around the corner. Why does that sound ominous? Or maybe your next muse lies within these memes. Give ‘em a scroll and see.