While I assure you that the conversation that influenced the comic was not nearly this...um, annoying, while recently speaking to my mother, the questions regarding my life's current course inevitably came up. It's becoming a tradition as tried and true as the change of the seasons. The simple act of nature showing some kind of progress, albeit cyclical, is a reminder to those with something invested in my future to ask just what, exactly, my progress has been. I suppose blogging, drawing crappy comics, and writing movies is not quite the answer they're looking for, but then I could probably be rescuing babies from alligators in China and some naysayer would still find trouble with the fact that there was no ultimate point. It seems even the most heroic, even superheroes, are bound to this criticism.
So where then does that leave the indebted yet artistic twenty-somethings?
I shudder at the thought.
FYI: The 2nd part of "And So It Begins" will be posted this week. I'm not too sure there are people out there squirming with baited breath, but it never hurts to inflate one's importance.
Write On...
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