Using My Words
Writing is gross. At least, mine is. Fragments of my vernacular and lexicon are intact. Sentence structure, punctuation, pacing, and even effective communication feels like bad. More practice needed.
Art skills look surprisingly good. I’m able to do lovely portraits that look 80%-90% like the person I’m drawing. Line drawing is an hour, capable shading is two. I have paint and inks with literal years of dust on them. Better dust them off.
I’ll share some of those practice pics soon. Serious works may take longer.
It’s a strange beast doing all this again. On the one hand, the feelings of creativity, competence, and accomplishment are all quiet wonderful. Among the downers: the solitude. It’s like alchohol, measured portions will leave you with a nice buzz and good feeling. Too much will easily destroy a man. I’ll need to be careful.
Online, there seems to be an ocean of social sites. All of which I look upon dubiously.
Years back, deleting my Facebook and neglecting Twitter felt and still feels liberating. Revving those horseshit things back up brings a sense of dread. Forgive me if I just focus on this site.
Goals for the near future are modest. Post a blog entry once a week on mondays, post content weekly on Thursdays, maybe twice with blog posts. This all depends on productivity as I tiptoe around expectations and precidents.