Do it. ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

It's easy to type this.

It's also easy not to type this. This bothers me. It's easy to make the decisions, to make the friends, to love your close ones, to work out what you need to, but just the same it's all too easy to let it all pass.

Today I think was rather productive. I learned the entire F.C.P.R Remix song on guitar and Amazing Because it Is as part of my little quota to learn an acoustic and an electric song every week. I felt like a happy little 3rd grader writing it on my white board; like when your kindergarten teacher used to put a golden star by your name when you did something good.

But Will Kid! I never got a golden star by my name!

Hah Bitch! I laugh at you.



(...no but really, I didn't either, but that doesn't stop me from redeeming myself 12 years into the future)

I realize that to engage in something you're truly interested in and passionate about, time flies out the window like gorilla feces at a rough zoo. It's just how it works. Which brings me to my latest aboriginal self-assertive theorem:

That perhaps passion's only measure is time; whereby all else in between is consciousness.

BUT KID WILL I DISAGREE!

No.

You don't.

In fact, you love this theorem.

You love me.

Now you are getting sleepy.

Very sleepy from reading these equally spaced out words.

You close your mouth because it was slightly open.

You get itchy.

Yes.

yes.....

You will comment after you read this blog and say: " Yes, I love the theorem."












So that's basically I draw this from those times (as I'm sure you're quite familiar with if you're a human being) where I would be drawing or doing something artistic or doing god knows what I was passionate about, and before I knew it--I had been sitting there for hours, concentrated. It's as if time had no play it in at all!

Take for instance, the very top MAGNIFICENT douche bag looking picture of myself you are able to marvel at whenever you visit my page. It was a direct result of such a phenomenon.

2009, December 31, New Years Night.
I found myself playing with the effects of Paint Shop Pro. I sat there working on that picture just for the fun of it at 8pm. Working and working, experimenting, being frustrated, discovering, wide-eyed (O_O) , imagination wandering, high event reward giggles of grandeur as I bent effect after effect and manipulated pixel after pixel. Soon I checked the time and it was 12.

In the fucking afternoon.

Where did the time go? I have no fucking clue where it went. But the hours I spent editing and modifying (forget the fact that it was my fat face I was slimming down!) a picture using a wonderful piece of technology were just sucked into all what I can remember as a few minutes...

Maybe life should be this way.

Would you rather spin through it with passion or drag it along in misery?

Seems to me that those with passionate misery have it made.