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I posted this page from my sketchbook, as evidence of what I hate to admit, to label, "drawing block." It's been a really, really, long time since I've felt this unmotivated to draw. I had the luxury of inertia to keep me from think about the "why" when I was working on "Ad Hoc." But then again, I feel like "Ad Hoc" was a 2 year journey of delirium. Shit, I had to fly to Portland just to prove to myself that I was actually collaborating on it with Adam White, and that he wasn't just another hallucinatory night-terror. He wasn't; he just shared my delusion, is all. (I'm smiling, here.) "Ad Hoc" certainly reads like a strange dream.

But now I'm awake. I've had a lot of time to reflect on the "why" of comics, and aside from hobby or distraction, I haven't felt really motivated. It's not that I don't have anything on my plate to draw - Jon sent along the next set of scripts; they're great. They just sit there, next to a stack of library books with tons of art reference.

I'm sure everyone won't agree with me on this, but I've really been left with a sense of failure in comics. Sure, there's been a lot of gracious folks who got attached to the idea or quirkiness of it, but "Ad Hoc" just ain't right. They just sit, unread, in the few shops that were awesome enough to put them on their shelves to promote local talent. There's a stack of books I purchased for the Chicago con - I thought I'd really do better than I did. See? Even with print-on-demand, I'm left with inventory. How stupid am I? I've sent out a dozen books to folks who promised to review it in their blogs, or whatever; but not a single review has been written. And I don't blame them - it's better not to write anything if you only have negative stuff to say.

I suppose it's a combination of depression and exhaustion. It's really quite stupid. For the last couple of months, I've had this weird blemish on my lip. Kinda looks like a cold sore, but it's not. And let me tell you, don't bother to go to WebMD, it'll do nothing but depress you. I tried everything I could think of to get rid of it, but it just stayed there. It's stupid how one tiny bump on your face can really bring you down. I mean, it's bad enough watching your hair recede. But this made me overly self-conscious. Well, yesterday, I finally went to the doctor. He took one look, wrote a script for some topical cream, and in ONE DAY the fucking spot on my lip went away. It woulda stayed there forever, probably, but this cream - it killed it - dead. I guess it was a sort of fungus. Yeah, sexy. Kiss me.

But you know, shit like that can really bring you down.

Then there's the day job. I try to NEVER write or complain about it here; some folks there read this shit, and I really don't want to bore you to death with what I do. I feel a bit strained, overworked. It's not the hours - I haven't been working much overtime, but the density of "thinking" work is taking a toll. I used to do some pretty heavy-labor when I was younger; moving furniture, working in factories; but this constant state of problem solving and code writing wears me out. It's been more difficult lately, because everyone I work with seems to realize it's a hot market for developers, and people keep leaving, resigning. There is that pressure that I could be making more somewhere else, but there are a lot of things, reasons, keeping me where I'm at, for now. Usually, I file away concerns about salary, but it's been on the front of my mind all summer - Meili was laid off last April and her severance and unemployment money is about dried up. And, of course, she's in a tough business right now. She did underwriting work for sub-prime lenders. HAH!

Well, good news on that front - yesterday, she got a job offer from a great company that's been around since the 1800s with a lot of promise for advancement. One less thing to stress about.

Still, God holds a grudge for some of those nasty things I wrote about him before, so to fuck with me, He had a traffic cop pull me over yesterday. It's not that I don't deserve a speeding ticket. I drive 75 mph every day to work, I'm four years over-due for a ticket. But it wasn't the ticket, it was the cop's attitude that put me in a rage yesterday. To pull me over, he LITERALLY stood in the middle of the fast lane - I coulda run that stupid fucker over. Then he egged me on with a "golf-clap" when I succeeded in NOT killing him. Further, he ALSO gave me a ticket for not signaling to pull over. I'm sorry, I was a little distracted NOT running you over, ASSHOLE. In the end, it was how I felt degraded that ruined my day.

It was that one asshole that distracted me from the fact that yesterday turned out to be a brilliantly awesome day.

It's a good thing that I suck at making music. If not, I'd really start to worry about ever drawing comics again. Some really kind friends keep encouraging me, but facts is facts - I really suck, despite that it's fun, distracting, relaxing. Last night, Jeremy told me about how they are going to bring some drums into school on music day next week. So we practiced some rhythm. I gave him two chords to play on the piano, and we practiced - one, two, three, four. I strummed my guitar on the side, and he really lit up when he heard it all come together. For a kid his age, rhythm's a really tough thing to rap your head around. He wants to speed it up - thinks it's a contest. But when he finally got it, it was awesome.