I'm a bit stuck between both shyness and indecision writing-wise. I have a friend here who wants more to have the time and privledge to write, and here I am with all thumbs regarding subjects to expound on.

I'm afraid. That's something of an answer given to a constant question "asked" by the muse of my creativity and the "intimidating company" she keeps - one I've answered only to feel the need to answer it more.

I've been looking around in where people value free expression. And playing PC Skyrim. Lots of that. I've burdened myself with questions that only serve to block inspiration. Sometimes I even cried, out of personal fears on just what people's care for art may have come to. I've wanted strongly to convey things in ways similar to how I have, albeit maybe with better storytelling methods, and above most issues simply to once again become a part of the contributing artists who's works often show up for folks to see.

Some artful people come to points in time where they ask themselves why they produce creative works. They look back on what they've brought forth, and embarrassment may strike. That's what's happened with me. I've become shy where being forthcoming was once the standard.

It's not so much that I'm not willing that I'm mostly disoriented. I've written things I've come to believe were sloppily done in later time, or just plain bad. But it became one of those old things you look back on with a warm smile because of how eager you were to stay within the boundaries of your brand of artistic expression. It was fun. I'm just older and too much of an observer to take station down at a forefront.

I'm naturally led to wonder what's become of the folks however slightly younger or older than my generation, and then I just begin to worry. What's most prevalent has shifted, what people know of most has changed, and most of the "veterans"- not referring to military folks ( and I didn't mean they were "horrible people" in a controversially named journal post of the past ) - have moved on to other things in life. I feel that it's not as easy to compel a reader with things of an olden flair in these times.

One thing is, for people not much in the know on a few things, there's often wonder and awe yet to be instilled in them. But I'm not a professional writer. I love more things than I am educated on those same things, and sometimes it's textual work from authors deep seated in what they paint with words that people fall in love with most - something that shouldn't stop me from writing since there are some venues of expression that can only be birthed purely of a wayward idea rather than something factual. Fantasy. I love it, but sometimes I feel embarrassed because I love it.

Coming up with something isn't so much the problem as oversaturation is. I miss the 2009-2013 time of Fur Affinity, for what it was worth where art was concerned. People even just inspired by the greatest things wanted to put out their expressions for others to behold.

 

I've had a few ideas for poems float through my head in the past 10 months. I'm sorry I haven't had many new writings to post.

Sometimes, you simply wonder if the artform you would love most to perpetuate is even still alive.....