driven

[mitsene]

i feel like the last few years, i have been driven by my passions. which is to say, i have to do the hyperfixation thing that is in my brain lately. and there's no other option. i do the thing. i just do it. there's no 'or else'. it's like i'm driven by some kind of inner motor that's completely drowning out all other things. 

i reached some kind of point of burnout in 2019 where i no longer have the capabilities to do creative work for other people on a regular basis. i've done some commissions for nice people with interesting characters, but nothing to the extent that i used to, where i was actually kinda making a living out of it, before covid and AI. i agreed to illustrate a children's book at some point in 2023 and i'm STILL working on it. i just need to get it done, the logical part of my brain knows this. i'm working on it a little every day, it'll get done, it's just... yeah. 

whatever part of me used to put my own projects on hold to work for other people now has its neck under the boot of The Passions.

i'm grateful that i have the patience in my current older age to do the marathon-level work that a webcomic needs. i also work on it a little each day, but it's an absolute need. like, i've quit smoking and i have a harder time taking a break from making the comic. people might say, like, oh, hyperfixation is only for neurodivergent people, ADHD or autism or whatever, but heck if i don't have that absolutely obsessive compulsion to do the thing, and only the thing, everything else be damned.

lately, when i'm not working on the comic, all i want to do is BAKE THINGS. i want to see the dough get fluffy. i want to put in the effort only for it to be consumed. i want crusty bread, and cardamom rolls, and cinnamon buns. i want muffins and banana breads and pistachio tea cakes. 

this all just rises from the inside. dreams. i have other dreams — biking alone, trains and colorful houses; falling asleep and the sun glares from the ocean waves into my eyes so hard it wakes me up but it was all just a dream; voices of hypnogogia lulling me down again. — but also, dreams of spreading cinnamon sugar on a wide flat dough. 

dreams that can come true. 

dreams of simple, achievable, short-term things that feed people. the people in my life who still need to eat to live, here, along with us, now. warm dough. warm spices. sorry i couldn't call you on a regular basis or tell you how much you meant to me when you were alive, but maybe i can feed someone in your family a bun. 

maybe.