Perfection perfection perfection.

Linear artwork (ie inking) is quite a dangerous thing. It requires a high level of precision, it requires a great deal of planning and foresight. It is disastrously easy to make a mistake. That makes it the perfect trap for me, because I'll be tempted to plan forever, ruminate forever, and dream continually of the perfect drawing that lives in my head knowing that as soon as it tries to make the trip from my brain to my stylus and onto the virtual canvas, it will be non-perfect. Everyone will see it is non-perfect. Everyone will know that I am responsible for its non-perfection, and at that moment I can never be the guy who came into the world fully-formed and wonderful. What will you do to me now that you know what I am not?

I'm afraid you'll tear me apart, or even worse, ignore me. Rush and fumble, run and fall, yearn and burn up into nothing.

*looks up at people looking at this* That got a little strange didn't it? Sorry ;P

Anyway, I can't stay in perfectionist mode forever. The drawing won't let me. There's a phantom somewhere in it, a spirit in the lines crying out for life. "I don't want to be perfect," it says, "I just want to be real." Pretty selfish, right? I ignore it. But! It keeps on yowling on and on and on. It seeps into reality. It calls me on my cell phone. It signs me up for a landline so it can call me on my house phone. It badgers me emails. It writes letters to Dear Abby. Then it really gets to me. I see it in the toast I try to eat for breakfast like some people say they see Jesus. Finally, I just have to shut it up. I don't care anymore. "Go ahead and look ugly!" I say. And it is ugly. As ugly as any eviction. But once it's gone, it's over. And now there's room for the next tenant to come on through and torment me again.