This is not a video thrown at me by our Algorithmic Masters, but a chap that I watch regularly. He’s entertaining (if slightly Navy in his vocabulary now and then). It’s not the sort of thing he usually does, either, but I found it was an interesting and useful contemplation in the area of acquiring skills.
There’s also just some minutiae of painting a gaming figure which might not be entirely gripping for all, but that’s life. Seriously, though, “I am not good at X” is a statement which in most cases can have “yet” appended to it. My own handwriting is substantially better than it was when I started keeping this screed, through no more than some applied and conscious effort. We’re in a great time for learning how to do stuff. Follow, within reason, your joy.
†This pen reminds me that pens of this age are not very pleased to be left sitting idle for days at a stretch. I uncapped it this morning to find that what ink remained in it was… not freely flowing, let’s say. As a back-up, I’m pressing the TWSBI Eco which produces my fictional output into some non-creative uses. I’m sure it will be all right.
In fact, it may even get rotated out for a different high-capacity modern pen I don’t mind leaving at The Regular Job for months on end. I don’t remember the last time it had a break, and it will be in my pocket at the end of the day.
First, this lovely eulogy regarding one of my childhood heroes (yes, really– my childhood was a little eccentric):
Now, let’s be hopeful. This is the end of a series of videos, but the first that presented itself to me. Are you ready to revel in scholarship and skill? Then let’s begin.
…and yes, I would like one of those coats scaled to fit my thuggish dimensions.
On the depression front, because I might as well update that too: General improvement, but with a recent hitch. The magic brain pills I’ve been prescribed have been slowly ramping up dosage, and a week ago they got to what the doctor described as the low end of “a maintenance dose.” Cool. Except now I’m always very sleepy– I should have gotten more done on “Song of the Pen” but yesterday I actually had a nap instead.
Well, not really. I sat in my chair at The Regular Job with my eyes closed. Actual sleep might carry on past the end of the lunch break and demand official notice.
I’ll have to look into whether this is something one eventually gets used to, because right now it’s very like I’m perpetually crammed with antihistamines and that doesn’t seem a lot more supportable than the depression.
…and maybe it’s worth having thyroid levels looked at, too. Who knows? “Don’t assume zebras when you hear hoofbeats” is something said to young doctors on TV, but there’s other things than horses in the farmyard.
Mid-January, huh? Just about the time for people to start pretending they never made any New Year’s resolutions.
…and then some jerk like me comes along. I won’t judge. I’ll just suggest some self-improvement which is within reach. Loads of people want better handwriting, and today’s film is some hints in that direction (and some low-power advertising; we are fish in an ocean of capitalism).
I am not, I should say, of the same school of handwriting as herself. I find some of her notions of correct letter shape unappealing. That said, there’s nothing wrong with studying other schools to discover new means of mastering the art. You see it in kung fu films and samurai movies all the time.
† I find with “Morgue Attendance” that I begin to run into a problem in the why is this happening? department. I can usually dispel that with a cry of Because CREEPY! and carry on, but the specific shape of the story won’t allow that kind of easy evasion. So, back on the shelf it goes until something sensible ferments.
‡ Two black inks in the same rotation?! I had meant to fill the Parker with something else last Friday, and discovered there was a mere syrupy drop left in the bottle. Panic took over, as I had less then five minutes to get on my way to work.
Well… I had a notion of looking forward for this first film of the year, but last night’s international developments made be do an about-face. So, let’s see what a pen-seller of some repute thought were good pens in the previous year, and avoid looking at the news.
Dear heavens, though… what they did with the point on that first Diplomat. Brrr!
† Strangely, I opted for a no-booze New Year’s Eve, keeping my evening lubricated with just shy of a gallon of iced tea. So that sleep, starting late though it did, was not an alcoholic coma. Just the human frame finally collapsing from the forced march of daily employment in the modern understanding of the term.
Whether the depression and treatment thereof had anything to do with the brief teetotalling is unclear. I don’t think so, as I certainly had a small neat whisky the next day. Perhaps it’s… *gasp*… maturity asserting itself at last.
What's up at Ravens March. 