Too Much Time On My Hands

No, it’s not something from Styx catalogue.

When you’re faced with no bundy clock to race to, no deadlines to cram about, one’s own existence comes to fore. Like wondering how birds can immediately cheer you up when you’re down. Or if when you sleep at night and your roof is hosting some pigeon conference.

Now I get to do some stuff entirely of my own volition. My drawing and animation workshop is about to take place sooner than I expected. Paetenians are running out of artists. More of us are opting for jobs abroad. Or the ones left here are often dissing manual work for a more, er, civilized job like in an office where you sit on your butt for long hours and act really cool while stooping and condescending to your superiors. I take pride in my Paetenio blood, and the art that it carries in its genes. Too bad nobody taught me to carve, but my illustration has been developing through the years and I guess its time to pass on the skills to a younger generation.

And it beats moping about the house waiting for a call that will never happen.

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