Ego: May 2003 Archives

A mister Howard sends word that a photo of mine from Morocco was published on the Beeb's "perspectives of water across the world ". Top right of page, "Your Pictures", picture number three.

So they can't crop photos skilfully, let alone edit a paragraph such that it continues to sound good once mauled, but I is well pleased [sic] just to see it there; I submitted it weeks ago and promptly forgot. Luckily I have spies everywhere.

It's interesting to note that I've recently faced, from three different directions, a number of discussions concerning the difficulties that people have when trying to fit in. I will readily admit that being part of something with other folk can be great, but when it is something that has no meaning to you in any way other than to make you feel less insular in the grander scheme, well, we part company.
There are times and places where blending in can save your skin, but day to day, why waste your precious time on the superficial when it doesn't make you happy? It's a curse of the short-term fix, a caffeine buzz in place of a good night's sleep; instant gratification toward a longer term loss. I don't do security blankets.

I hope these problems are resolved. In this regard, my personal experiences of the moment are far more trivial. I recently advertised for a middle-distance running partner on a couple of University email lists, including a far-reaching one to an LBG distribution address. I had two great responses, one of which is already a regular fixture for which I am very grateful, and a third, more supportive one, from a friend who is courageously starting out on his own path to masochism. I love you guys!

Go out the following Monday night, and an unnamed fairy queen flounces over, pulls a face and squeals "Running! What kind of freak are you?" I smile, laugh a response, and quietly cringe over every concealed inch of my pulsating viscera. The silence of the majority is reassuring; people, we have ourselves a mature audience. Yet there are still those - perfectly intelligent at that - who live life according to stereotypes, and who seem to have trouble regarding perfectly plausible variations in human nature as anything other than aberrant. Let us not lose sight of this tremendous irony; a poof who expects compassion, but has none to give? It explains plenty.

I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, to be fair, but why bother projecting such a pitiable side to your character in the first place? I've heard it said that nothing is often a good thing to do, and always a clever thing to say. Natch.

Each and every morning, I get up, shower, eat breakfast. While I eat breakfast, I surf. While I surf, I invariably check the news. And with increasing frequency, every time I check the news, I see that, once again, we've been landed in the shit. Last night's bombing of Casablanca represents just another instance of what has been an inneffectual...

Yesterday. From somewhere in between a gasp for air and an expression that captures the combined pain of every tortured soul that has ever been, comes the question that has invariably, and always, brought a smile to my face; do you really enjoy this?

For anyone interested in art - doing it, not appreciating - the following is a nice guide to the important aspects of drawing in ink, a favourite area of mine. Time to resurrect some old pages of mine - the most popular part of my previous site was the guide to botanical illustrating in ink. Deleted. Accidentally. Bugger.