"...is this something sinister?"

Man, it is rather cold outside. This is what January is supposed to feel like. I'm happy to see Winter has stirred.
I woke up this morning, I thought I was sore from the wrestling match between Ryan and I yesterday. Alas, I had a massage the other day, and I think that's why I feel so beat up. Even my arms, down to my elbows are sore. Kinda crazy. Jules mentioned how wierd it is when the muscle is stimulated to the point where it's not even sure what's causing it to be stimulated. Nuts.
Tonite I stayed late and tattooed Landon. Brian wanted me to try out this one machine he was tuning today, and tell him what I thought of it. I must admit, I was out of my element, but it wasn't too bad. Tattoo turned out pretty nice. We still have a session of background and jonx to do. It should be sweet once all is said and done.

I'm still feeling kinda funky, mostly disillusioned, I think. At least I am not so alone in being alone. It's interesting to look back when I moved to Baltimore, back to my parent's house, then here to Gettysburg. I remember coming home from work and there would be nothing. It was a glorious nothing. I'd pour a bowl of cereal or a glass of chocolate milk, draw, paint, or play tetris until ridiculous hours in the morning. I then spent the night on the couch, woke up, got ready for work, and was content in my solitude. There was so much more to be stimulated by. I had a place to myself, the beginning of a kick-ass job, and my friends would come visit me on the weekends. All was well.
Then things started to get wierd. I started noticing a change in other's attitudes toward me. It was the beginning of a chain reaction that nearly destroyed me. I thought it was in my head, until I heard other accounts. In my attempt to be self-sufficent, I succeeded, and in doing so, was forgotten. I wasn't angry or spiteful, but just figured I was being silly.

Through all of the new changes, I never lost the ability to feel emotion, in fact, quite the opposite happened. Now I can't turn it off. I suppose such is the curse of being an artist, which is why most artists end up being exiled from typical society. If that is my fate, then so be it. It's probably much more thrilling on that side of the mind.
The more and more I think about it, the more and more I want to try something different for a while. I want to be so devoted to something, that I wouldn't have to think twice about the dangers. I really like that.
When I first started tattooing, it was like that. I couldn't wait to get off work, drive through rush hour traffic for 45 minutes, then sit and be completely overwelmed learning how to tattoo, drive home, then wake up and start job 1 all over again. I never thought about working in an elite studio, doing a billion conventions, getting paid more than 25% of my nightly cut, or having my name in flashing lights. Things just happened because my heart didn't need to think about them.
I want that. Just as I pursued opportunity, I will relinquish what I have gained. Without darkness, there would be no light. Without chaos, there would be no peace.

That's all I have to say. Until next time...