Sunday, February 16, 2014


Beginning around the time I was old enough to be critiqued on my appearance, I have been told that I have ugly hands. My fingers are short and stubby (making my strong desire to pick up the guitar or the piano or most instruments, really, a moot point). Most of my digits have experienced breaks and are therefore crooked. I often have cuts and bruises with less interesting stories than are usually worth telling, because I like using my hands for everything and usually don't stop long enough to think about protecting them.

One of the art classes I took in high school (I took damn near all of them) required that we keep a sketch diary. We didn't have to be skilled or creative, we just had to show that we were constantly drawing. Sort of similar to an author needing to keep an active blog, I guess *shame*

For one of my pages in this sketch diary, I drew my own hands. I wrote on the page, in passing, "These are my hands. They're ugly, but they're useful, so I like them."

My teacher, Master Tim, responded: "Useful = Beautiful"
This is my beautiful hand. It has some nicks, some cuts, some signs of past adventures, and a tattoo of a feather pen, because that is how I communicate best with the world. I've frequently said that every -one and -thing has a story worth telling; it is simply a matter of telling it correctly.

Last year was a year of change and progress. This year has, for its young life, been a year of progress and learning. I hope to have some proper adventures, and I hope you enjoy hearing about them :)


  1. Replies
    1. Thanks! Come April, I'm going to get a larger one (and in color! Ooh!) on my right forearm. A lark and a lily. Because of reasons =D