The Bridge of Fate: 1000 Words

Today began as a (somewhat) normal day for me: alone in my bed, sweat on my forehead from a nightmare I once thought vanquished, my phone's alarm ready to go off in ten minutes, the daylight trickling through my window, my iPod shuffling through my "Sleepytime" playlist.

I wasn't particularly feeling inspired to do anything yet, because I knew I had to type something big to bridge the first and second halves of 2012 together (much like I did last year). So, I decided I'd go through my "slowly waking up" routine: lurking on the Internet and keeping a window on standby in case I came up with something to type. Now, this process takes about two to three hours, depending on what my plans for the day are and when they kick off. For this particular day today, my confirmed schedule involves work at 1500, with nothing else in hand. So I figured, "two hours ought to be enough."

That was 0800. At the time I began to write this entry out, it was 1127.

Now, usually, when I'm going through this slow wake-up, I'll more often than not have no less than fifteen tabs open on Google Chrome. More often than not, a decent portion of 'em will either be pages on Wikipedia or TV Tropes, two of the Internet's biggest time-sink websites in history. (Not that that's a bad thing...)

Somehow I ended up on the real life section of the "Crowning Moment of Heartwarming" page on TV Tropes. As a known cynic with occasional misanthropist thoughts, I was stunned to see that there are still people willing to help others out there in their own way. Naturally, reading a page like this would stun anyone with any degree of misanthropy, and while I know that for all my sarcasm and jackassedness I'm still a good guy (I hope, because your mileage will vary.), there are moments in life that force me to stand back and wonder why I'm still kind at times. Reading stories like these remind me that the world is worth living in and that people still deserve kindness - even if they do deserve a .50 caliber bullet to the face.

However, that's not the story I'm here to talk to you about. I'm here to tell you about one particular entry I read that shook my very core and reminded me about my past, the present, and the promises I intend to uphold in the future.

And to think it all started with a picture.

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...)