A pattern, in focus: I become disenchanted with a medium once the process is poisoned, either by forces internal or external (more often than not the former, especially when they disguise themselves as imaginary external forces). Music, definitely external: the wrong-headed choice to pursue conservatory training killed any enjoyment I got out of performing and left me with scars I'm still struggling to overcome. Film, more of a combo of both. Loved and love editing a film and writing one, but the process of directing just didn't grab me like I'd hoped it would. Writing, definitely internal though some external factors played a role (read: no one gave a fuck which is an external factor that I allowed to masquerade as an internal one). Comics, I simply didn't enjoy the lengthy process of making one myself (aside from my daily Informalities, of course) and loathed the decades-long process of potential collaborations falling into the abyss of communicative ghosting; comics, as they say, broke my heart (doesn't mean I'm giving up, though). Working on antidotes now: the process of writing these daily pieces is an attempt to get me back to loving what writing offers me (mental exploration of questions, etc) and I'll be damned if I let the well of joy in metalwork be poisoned, especially by my own hand.