i always have a desire to create something. a question i seem to always ask myself is, what i want to create, is there any point to it? am i just fulfilling this creative impulse inside me, scratching an itch so to speak, or is there something meaningful and with purpose to my ideas? i never have an answer. i'm at peace with that

speaking of being at peace, drawing has always been like a drug for me. the focus on line and shape and pulling something from nothing and giving birth to an image. it gives me calm. i've always wrestled with demons of anxiety in social situations. in high school it focused me down to my desk on to any scrap paper to doodle. all my school notes were adorned with a column of words and a column of images. maybe a precursor to my affair with the field of comics.

words and pictures.

writing has always been my distant cousin. a well versed student in the gift of words an phrases i am not. but i like my ideas. if only they were more linear and defined. or maybe i dont wish that. i recall an interview i read with david lynch. if you write 300 scenes on 300 index cards, you have a movie.

i string these thoughts into a blog entry. i string my ideas into a story. scratch. scratch.