Twitter has changed my way of writing. Although, I don’t think of myself as a writer, I must put thoughts into words now and then. Twitter forced me into being brief with expressing my thoughts. However, I can’t be brief now. It’s been a year since I’ve done anything significant with Count Ramila Studios. I let myself be taken away form my original goals. I’ve been taken away from my own comic book stories. These distractions were projects that just got bigger and consumed most of my time. I’m letting go of some of these distractions so that I can get some Count Ramila stuff done.

To help me stay on task I’ve decided on a new goal for this year. Like an athlete that’s lost his edge after an injury, I’ve lost my creative edge. I have to retrain myself to be as I once was. Looking at me now it’s hard to believe at one point in time I use to paint one picture a night.

I am much happier now that I’m far away from the desert. I feel isolated here but never alone. So I admit I am happier. One would think to be close to family and friends would bring happiness but for me the opposite is true. I don’t have to feel guilty anymore for not being there.

What does this have to do with new goals and regaining  creative edge? I’m getting to that.

I’d like to say I’m the kind of person who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. To some degree that’s true but nothing can ever stop how others influence me and my decisions. I had felt expectations that I couldn’t meet. I wanted to fade away. I still do. I wanted to disappear and be forgotten.

Why?

My prolific art was meaningless and I knew it. Others could see the meaninglessness also and if they didn’t it would be clear eventually. I finally have the courage to admit it but I knew this all along. I knew it when I did it and I knew it when I showed it. So I felt like a fraud. I worked hard in my early twenties to refine my technical skills. (Drawing, Painting) All the art I was doing was studies or practice. I work as a framer so I see lots of these. People bring them in to frame thinking their kids or friends who did them are going to be the next van Gogh. I was ashamed of myself for not having direction. How could I consider myself an artist if I had no direction? So I withdrew like a cowered and proclaimed I had nothing to prove to anyone.

I’ll never be sure if I have too much pride or no pride at all.

I found my direction with comic books. I found a purpose through this medium. I am by nature a studious person and I teach myself things. To do comic books requires an extraordinary amount of self-discipline not just being studious. I don’t push people away because I dislike them. Rather, I was never really their with them in the first place. It is my vise, it is my curse, it is my downfall, it is a thing I struggled with all my life.

I wasted so many years being ashamed of myself for not doing meaningful art. I wanted to only do things I felt strongly about. I wanted to work on art that was important. Important things never came, or they never happened, or they where never important enough.

So this is how I feel today. I feel like an overweight person trying to get back into shape. And it’s really hard to jump start my workout. So my plan is to go full on, head on, bum rush, and balls out. I’m going to do one comic a night or art thing every night for a whole year. And I’m going to post it here.

I’m training for a marathon weather it’s meaningless or not.

 

Rami