I don't say that I'm an artist anymore. When people ask what I do, I tell them that I chase clouds and climb trees. Then they give me an odd look -- their heads tilted quizzically to the side and say "No, I mean, what do you do for a living?" By this they mean "What is your job? What do you contribute to society" And for that, I have no answer.

I used to think that I had something to contribute to society. I got into this profession with the highest and noblest of ideals. The world was sick, and drowning in its own apathy. News of wars made me nauseous, injustice made my blood boil. But most of all, ignorance and indifference were what I couldn't stand. The human race was two steps away from complete disaster and self-annihilation, and no one seemed to notice, or if they did notice, then they just didn't care. Needless to say, computer science seemed useless at that point. I switched my major. I was going to change the world. I was going to save humanity's soul... through art. How in the hell I thought I was going to do that, I don't know.

Of course, I haven't saved humanity's soul. I'm not sure if I'll even be able to salvage my own at this point. And while we're still at the brink of disaster -- the edge of apocalypse -- we have yet to fully self-destruct. Though that has nothing to do with my own efforts. Of that I can be fairly certain.

I didn't change the world. The world changed me. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't devoted enough. I wasn't ever really sure what I was doing to begin with, and I lost my way.

on Blogging

We all want to be heard, don't we? No one wants to go unnoticed. Is there anything more mournful than a life forgotten or overlooked? Many people respond to their mortality by having children, and in this way they are made immortal. They will be remembered, at least for a few generations... but their seed will be carried on into the indefinite future, and they will live on through their progeny. But even for those of us that do not procreate, we must still create. We must leave our mark on this world -- however small. Even if it is only our name spray-painted onto the side of a subway tunnel. Even if it is nothing more than a reiteration of the simple statement "I was here".

We are not afraid of death. Death is a consequence of life. We are afraid of being forgotten. And that is why we blog.