I accidentally a year.
So. There was this commission I took on, to digitize two of someone else's old typeface designs, thinking it should only take about a month. He kept thinking of more and more things he wanted, and eventually it unfolded into a total of ten fonts, most with a substantial complement of alternate characters, and the last of which I pretty much had to design myself based only on a sample of the lowercase. It helped me learn some stuff about properly compiling, debugging, and finishing font files, but I got sick of the whole thing pretty quickly, to the point that I would (1) procrastinate on it often, because some days I just couldn't stand to look at it, and yet (2) increasingly resolve to avoid (a) any of my own projects and (b) any social contact whatsoever, because of the feeling that if I diverted brainpower to anything else, I would never be finished with this thing. My sleep patterns found every way to be unhelpful, naturally.
Even in the best of scenarios, again and again I find that working for anyone but myself is just a massive problem.
I have been in evidence on the internet, offering the odd comment or opinion, but mostly in places where I wouldn't expect anyone to know or care who I am. To be safe from any premature ideas of my being "back", I guess.
Remarkably enough, it has been a year to the day since I wrote, "I think the whole thing is finally off my hands." Now that at last it actually is, I sort of don't know where to begin with my proper life again, and am churning on The Everything Thing turned up to eleven. Updating my websites still seems to be contingent on teaching myself a few markup and programming languages. I probably need to dump a pile of documents into a big box and label it "desk 2012" so that I have a place to draw. Among the things I am discovering, of course, is that if I want to catch up with people, I'm going to have to see about signing onto some of the currently acceptable arbitrary platforms for writing words on the internet, because LJ has truly become cyber New Jersey at this point. It's Lew Jersey. And his boomerang fish act. That would make a decent first "tweet" I suppose. We'll have to see.
Even in the best of scenarios, again and again I find that working for anyone but myself is just a massive problem.
I have been in evidence on the internet, offering the odd comment or opinion, but mostly in places where I wouldn't expect anyone to know or care who I am. To be safe from any premature ideas of my being "back", I guess.
Remarkably enough, it has been a year to the day since I wrote, "I think the whole thing is finally off my hands." Now that at last it actually is, I sort of don't know where to begin with my proper life again, and am churning on The Everything Thing turned up to eleven. Updating my websites still seems to be contingent on teaching myself a few markup and programming languages. I probably need to dump a pile of documents into a big box and label it "desk 2012" so that I have a place to draw. Among the things I am discovering, of course, is that if I want to catch up with people, I'm going to have to see about signing onto some of the currently acceptable arbitrary platforms for writing words on the internet, because LJ has truly become cyber New Jersey at this point. It's Lew Jersey. And his boomerang fish act. That would make a decent first "tweet" I suppose. We'll have to see.