Master Bruised Paw Would Be Proud

Words of wisdom from a wisdom-lacking dude.

A Hand At Advice

Back in high school, I was in the school newspaper working primarily as a copy editor and partially as an op/ed writer. It inspired me at one point to try to make my own self-published pieces. I found one I wrote back in the new year seasons of 2007. o.O

Foolish Preparations

As it's the end of the month, I'm going to go ahead and post something for you guys and gals. I mean, it's only fair because... well, I haven't posted much lately. All through this month there's been a drought of words and substance, and it hasn't been... well... it hasn't been cool with me. I say it's time to stop (for now). What better way to do it than with a decent entry?

GEFALLEN: *demonic voice* SIT... DOWN...

It's going to be interesting, so grab a seat. This could be a while.

Artistic Combat

Sometimes, things just go horribly wrong. You're there just working on creating or editing something when without warning, the ideas just stop flowing. You don't know what happened, and right now it's the biggest obstacle in your life since that moment when you were six and the grade school bully was standing between you and your lunch. Or Game Boy. Or the playground.

Regardless of what this bully's blocking, you know you need to reach it as soon as possible while you still have time to do so. You struggle to get past, yet each attempt ends up falling apart as the bully stops you in your pitiful tracks and shoves you back. As you land on your butt for what seems like the umpteenth time, the bully just cackles maniacally at you. You struggle to get back on your feet, determined each time... only to repeat the cycle.

I don't know where I originally found this, but it's obvious that this isn't mine.
However, her focused and intense look at her laptop? That's me, like, half the time I type something up.

Artists (like myself) these days will tell you that while they've come a long way from the schoolyard blues, a different kind of bully comes through and blocks them from their goals. As such, the metaphor changes and adapts to their current wants, needs, and goals - lunch is now that lunch date they promised a friend they'd go out on when (s)he finished working; that Game Boy is his/her social life they've been cast away from due to some kind of self-imposed exile; the playground is the rest of their life that (s)he could be enjoying instead of working on whatever it is they're working on.

How (NOT) to Feel Miserable as an Artist

Every once in a while a person is moved deeply by something they experience. No kind of person runs into a situation like this more often than the world's oldest idealist: the artist. The experiences can and will vary - it could be a movie they find inspirational, a song that touches the heart and soul, a paragraph of governmental statutes that triggers an organized (peaceful) reaction, some dream that jump-starts their muse(s), or even a giant plate of maple syrup-drenched buttermilk waffles that motivates them to cook something amazing for dinner. While things like this exist in ordinary life and are encountered by everyday people, it is the artist who takes it a step further and adds some "extra" to their "ordinary."

Snuffing Self-Doubt, Artist-Style

Discovering who I am and what I've done to get myself where I currently am at seems to be my biggest trend these days.
Naturally, one can assume that a decent entry will contain some amount of "facts" I've discovered about myself.

So, three guesses as to what today's entry will discuss. ("Wine, women and song" would be incorrect - although hedonism would be an interesting topic to discuss...)