Someone was supposed to show up today at noon to clean the carpets in my department: now it's noon-thirty and we're all sitting around with our computer towers on our desks and our cables taped to the bottoms of said desks, looking damn silly. Anne should be here any minute now with my lunch and a few minutes of thoroughly enjoyable company.
Assuming I can avoid getting inextricably immersed in WordPress theme building (again) later today, it seems like a good day to resurrect the LiveJournal (or rather the Facebook Notes-journal, for those [99%] of you reading this there). Which wasn't "killed" so much as "died from neglect once its caretaker went and got himself the busiest and most productive he has ever been in his life."
I suppose I *could* try to recount everything that's happened in the last nine months, but then that's led to enough false-blogging-starts already. When last I posted
, I was staring down the barrel of a community college course of study that was only as "daunting" as my own need for gravitas was making it feel. Which is to say, pretty daunting. As I recall, the foremost of my stressors was the complete inability to predict an outcome. And given how much has happened, I'd say I called that one rather well.
It started out shaky. My Fundamentals of Design course, the only traditional pencil-to-paper "art" class I needed, brought along a workload that was frankly a nightmare. But after one semester that I can barely remember for the sleepless chaos of it all, the semester I just polished off was a relative walk in the park. Now I'm thirteen credits in (and halfway through the program, rather I will be after the summer, more on that later) with a 4.0 and the check from Baby's First Paid Freelancing Gig already in the bank. I've done an album cover:
And another album cover:
And some identity design:
And even some worthwhile schoolwork projects:
It's an oddly cyclical development. Almost ten years ago I'd more or less abandoned a stagnant interest in visual art when I started "doing" music. And now almost ten years later it's unbelievable how much of the same excitement and enthusiasm and delight is just as present, just as vivid. It's Brand New Toy Syndrome, factored out to a somewhat larger scale.
The shift in creative output has had its casualties, for sure: I haven't written or worked on a piece of music in almost a year. Hell, I've been moved over to a laptop setup since January and none of my DAW software is even installed on this thing yet. I still use my office area, and the Kurzweil is still set up next to my desk, but there's more dust on the keys than I'd like. Bella Morte does keep that part of the brain somewhat active I suppose, in the sense that we practice all of once each time we have a show where I then stand up and play one note at a time. But really, at this point right now, if I'm to be honest with myself, I am not a person who makes music.
And I go back and forth with how I feel about all that. But, on the whole, I'm more amazed by how little I actually miss it so far. I suppose it makes sense though, when I still get to go out and do shows often enough but don't have to live with the creative frustration that had been plaguing me for so long. So I plan to let the drive to make music return organically. I've no doubt that my brain will eventually have enough new sounds in it to compel me to get them out. And that when I do, it'll actually feel like a worthwhile endeavor once again.
In the meantime, I'm pleased as punch to be cranking out the visuals while learning how to crank out more and different visuals. And, when not doing that, spending my days with this beautiful woman that I've somehow managed to con into being my girlfriend for over a year now. Putting off mention of her until now was intentional, a nice neat little coda that emphasizes the part of my life that has made these past nine months as grand as they've been. I mean, let's be honest, I've felt this accomplished before. When was the last time I felt this happy
Ten weeks ex-act-ly until we're sharing one roof. It's going to be a long-ass seventy days.