I've been bad at being consistent. But I'm so fed up with having nothing to show for my time being alive. That's a different jotting--as for now:
There's so much going on in my mind that I want to say, but I want to say them in a way that allows me to bring those swirling thoughts and issues to a close. It'll take some time, time that constantly eludes me but with a vengeance I squeeze as much as I can without hurting myself.
Artists--at least the ones who become enveloped by their work can experience emotions just a tad more intense than other lines of work. It's a detriment and a blessing. Strong empathy allows reaching into someone's soul and painting it for the world to see yet understanding of your situation may bring you to your knees, grieving the neverending fear of "Am I getting somewhere" but that's okay because we're human, and art keeps humans the mental medicine that in turn allows for example providers of medicine to work through another day. That's the Artists place, keeping the human expression alive.
Perhaps I won't have to wait to say much, the work may just betray my feelings.
















