The musings, laughter, anguish, and tears of a Stickman living the life drawn for him by the Artist. "I must learn to serve the Artist first, His pen directs my path. He breathes life into these worn-out sticks, And stickmen will see at last."

About Me

Poor. Student. Firefighter. EMT. Kind. Optimistic. Shy. Dreamer. Fool. Happy.

10.06.2009

Stating the obvious

I haven't written anything here for a long time. A lot can - and has happened in 22 months. Occasionally, a randomly played song or spoken name reminds me of this place and I come back. Once here, I tend to sit back content to read, muse, and observe how much has changed.

For lack of a better number, I feel that I can dismiss up to 95% of what I have written here as trivial nonsense, written for no better purpose then to feel like I was doing something mildly important. To keep my membership in "the club" current and have the buzz of feeling artistic. What is left over can be summarized by describing it as an eclectic mix of authentic stuff I am really proud of, and authentic stuff I look at now a little embarrassed by my shortsightedness and general "young-ness." But that is growing up.

I have a job now. A real, grown-up, permanent, career type of job. I have an apartment, of which my only complaint is that it faces North and so doesn't get enough sun. I have a few of the same friends - the important ones. They all continue to awe me to varying degrees.

And that - is all I have to say.

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