I like to look back through my old sketchbooks, from four years ago to two weeks ago, and find out how much I've changed. A lot of my evolution comes from critical advice (from  atreya ) and is found mostly by hating myself enough to draw things over and over again.

My most recent inspiration came from a manga I read called "Kakukaku Shikajika". I liked it enough that I may end up buying it. (This says something in the world of digitally stolen goods and scanlations. I swear, I worry about this a lot too.) Anyway, this particular manga is an autobiography of a manga artist. She writes about her world, and her delusions, and how she eventually ends up at this podunk esque art school with a scary teacher who hits people with a bamboo sword. His motto is, "Draw! (描け！)"
The artist reflects that her success as a manga artist, and the success of those of her classmates from this class, is their teacher's endless repetition. "Draw. Draw. Draw. You don't need to think, you're an artist. Just draw what's in front of you." It resonated with me, to say the least.

One particular scene, that both amused me and made me realize this is something I should do, is when the artist first started going to this school. An old man comes in, and as usual the teacher is critizising his art and telling him to draw, draw, draw. The only thing this old man is ever allowed to draw is a tissue box. (Just as the artist is only ever allowed to draw a bust of Mars for some time.) When she asks him why he can only draw a tissue box, despite being an old man, the teacher replies that if you don't have a solid base you can't possibly expect to be able to draw anything else well.
I think I could probably use one year's time drawing tissue boxes... If only I were still that young. Regardless, it has both inspired me to draw more (I definitely need to.) and to focus on the basics. Rather than just my weak points in my own usual drawings and style is, perhaps find my weak points from the base up. If I had the energy (and money, nevermind the time) in my lifestyle to go out even once a week to attend a drawing class, I'd love to. Alas, I guess I have to torture  atreya for critique.

I'm jealous of  atreya as well. Out of the two of us, who swore up and down in the middle of high school -- when we were both naive and young -- that we would go to art school, she is the only one of us who ended up going. I sit down here and draw, and get told by her how I surprise her sometimes... And I think, fuck. If I had gone to art school I would be amazing, no doubt. Oh well. (This is my narcissism kicking in, don't mind me.)
But, like wise, she probably feels the same. We both do.

Well, I guess the moral of this journal -- for anyone reading -- is follow your dreams, because you'll regret your decisions 10 years later if you don't. Well, you may regret it anyway, if you do... But at least you're being honest with yourself at the time. (I didn't go to art school because I didn't have the steel to do so... pansy bitch I was!) And to draw. Draw. Draw. Draw. Draw until your fingers go numb and your wrists ache. (Then let them heal, unless you want tendonitis...) And then do it again.
If you're a writer, write. Write, write, write. Even if you go back later and say, "What is this GARBAGE" write it anyway... You'll only regret the garbage that came out, and never the fact you wrote. You can edit bad writing, you can't edit what isn't there.

Finally, I realized the subject of my journal doesn't make sense. Oh well.