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Starting to understand the dude who commissioned an expensive drawing, erased it, and sold the erased drawing as a work of art.
Like??? Nowadays when I ask myself what I want to create the most honest answer is the sound of myself sleeping 
Or a real burger. Or three paragraphs on why people need to chill out and stop hyperanalyzing metaphors. Maybe a photo of myself outdoors to prove I touched grass 
Or a real burger. Or three paragraphs on why people need to chill out and stop hyperanalyzing metaphors. Maybe a photo of myself outdoors to prove I touched grass
Being under lockdown has given me plenty of time to think about what appeals to me and why. I am tired of thinking about what appeals to me and why. I would like to let things appeal to me and fill your tl with the stuff that makes me smile and unclench my jaw.
I would like to write about magic and BTS and fantasy worlds, and Iâd like to draw for them in my style, at my pace. Making up silly, stupid dances to do to the songs I love sounds like so much fun. I want a job that gives me space to think, and I think that job might be stocking
Shelves. Doing repetitive paperwork. Something I can do on autopilot. I think a goal to read a book a month sounds good and manageable. I would also like to go back to memorizing and singing my favorite songs to myself. Drawing for people. Food experiments.
Itâs hilarious but Iâm starting to realize just how much my art has suffered from being put a level above âjust a hobbyâ. Itâs hard to create original works when your professors demand up to ten hours of your week apiece and you actively seek out jobs that use creative energy.
Itâs hard to muster 2,000 words in half an hour when you spend half of your English class time practicing perfect paragraph formatting and trying to have relevant thoughts on readings.
And itâs hard even to read fics after a slew of articles and instructions.
And itâs hard even to read fics after a slew of articles and instructions.
But I still pushed myself to write a huge fic despite all those drags on my energy. Which means I could do it again. And again. And again.
Which begs the question: do I want to? How is that going to affect the quality and spirit of my writing? Would it be worth it in the end?
Which begs the question: do I want to? How is that going to affect the quality and spirit of my writing? Would it be worth it in the end?
And I think thatâs also the appeal of these little ideas Iâm getting. Theyâre fireflies, sparks. Not lanterns or bonfires, and probably not going anywhere. But theyâre pure ideas, and I like sharing them with yâall. So Iâll keep doing that. And weâll see what happens.
Who knows, maybe the field of fireflies will turn out prettier than the lantern-lined street I wanted before.
