Objects, Illustrated

Recently, I finished up some illustrations for the most excellent client and ice cream shop, eegee’s. Opened in Tucson in 1971, eegee’s expanded to 21 shops all over Arizona. A few weeks ago, they contacted me looking for several illustrations to accompany their new identity. The basic premise: draw super fun things. Obviously, they rock. Most of the illustrations are shown above. My favorites are the jet pack, unicycle and ray gun. The process: sketches, revisions, ink, scan, vector-fy, send. And they just sent me an image of how some of the drawings are being used in a mural in their new shop. This is fun.

Soft Chairs, Nice Smells, Good People

You’re probably wondering – as I would be were I on the other end of the internet – what is up with this title. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a bookstore, you silly goose. When was the last time you were in an actual bookshop? My last visit was to The Strand, one of the world’s greatest places, several weeks ago. But still, that’s not the last time I purchased a book. (The last time was from my frequent vendor, Better World Books.)

A few days ago, the lovely folks over at Brevity blogged about a new policy instituted by the fine literary journal Tin House. In a bold and excellent move, called Buy a Book, Save a Bookstore, Tin House is currently requiring all literary submissions to be accompanied by a receipt from the purchase of a book at an actual brick and mortar bookstore. Hell yes, Tin House. Further, they encourage the submitter to tell/show/illustrate a brief story surrounding either the purchase or why the purchase is impossible, if that’s the case. This request is hilarious.

There have apparently been mixed reactions to this so let’s discuss. (Omg. Look at these reactions.)

• 1. Charity/Good Will Factor

Everyone in this circle is connected. Journals need writers to fill their pages as well as bookstores to sell their products. Writers need readers, publishers and bookstores to share their ideas. Bookstores need journals, books, writers and readers. Etc. So it’s logical, I’d say, to find ways to connect value between venues in order to keep the system afloat, particularly in today’s world where any clown can publish her writing, say, on a blog.

• 2. Let’s Call It Filtering

Whatever the feeling on the policy, it will almost certainly filter out some group of writers (or typers). Whenever a consumer has to pay for something, a value is attached to the purchase. It’s no different here, where the writer has to consider what the reading of her work is worth. If it’s not worth $15 or $20, it’s probably not worth submitting.

• 3. If You Can Afford the Internet to Read the Policy, You Can Afford a Book

This is snooty, I confess. It’s conceivable that a person use the internet for free (perhaps at a university or library) and borrow all her books from the library. I even imagine I’d like this person. So, if this is you, then certainly you’d have humor enough to create some sort of interesting submission with perhaps exceedingly funny details about why you cannot possibly buy a book. Of course, these expenses can add up for the emerging writer especially. I’d then suggest the purchase of a used book.

• 4. Good Writers Read a Crapload

For example, in Ander Monson’s newest non-memoir/whatever, he cites something like 50 books read for the making of one short essay. 50 books, one essay. This is just an example, and maybe an extreme one. But in order to write well, one must be aware of her surroundings so to speak. Who is writing in a similar genre or of similar subject matter? How does the craft differ from your own? What do you add to the cultural dialogue? Personally, I like to own my books. Reading them is a kind of love affair and I couldn’t stand to part with them thereafter.

• 5. Of Interesting Note

Rob Spillman, editor of Tin House, notes that the journal receives over 1,500 submissions per month of people presumably looking to be published. While the journal of course needs writing in order to exist, I feel comfortable in the assumption that over 1,500 people per month are not subscribing to T-H. Yet contributors hope to be published. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to ask support of the circle we are invested in.

In rereading some comments about the policy, we might note that contributors (or would-be) might maintain a sense of humor here. Is this really a big deal? If a writer truly cannot afford the book or on principle opposes it, then be creative in a submission. Be funny. Make the editors laugh. I’m willing to bet if the writing is spectacular, they won’t turn it down.

Enough quacking. In support of the journal, I’ve just subscribed.

Uncomplicating the Internet & Life

Last week, I spent four days in Cape Cod (Yarmouth, specifically), a place I haven’t been since I was little. I freaking loved it. This, of course, has basically nothing to do with the topics usually discussed here but the time away did get me thinking about priorities.

Simplicity is an ongoing goal (read: battle) probably in all of our lives and as such, I’ve made a few changes around here. As you can see, the site has been de-complexified. The blog is directly on the landing page now (as was suggested to me several times) and there are simple notes on the sidebar about where to find me and what I’ve been talking about lately. There are a few more changes coming in terms of functionality but the format/aesthetics will stay as you see them today. Until I get bored with it (again…and every six months, it seems).

While on the beach, drink in hand, I started thinking about how obsessed I am with: this website, Twitter, Google Reader, finding discussions about design, finding art things, email, reading the news and occasionally celebrity gossip (though my brother is generally the best source for the latter). As I reread my post about the reasons for blogging (recently noted on the 99%, holler!), it occurred to me that a step back could be helpful in some as yet undetermined way.

Many of the successful blogs talk about blogging regularly, on a schedule, come hell or high water. And I’ve promised as much in past posts. Now I’ve changed my mind (do I contradict myself? I contain multitudes…); I’ll post when I have content worth writing about. When I am back at school, it will likely become more frequent. But in the summer, time should be spent outside somewhere.

The Importance of Folded Notes

Apropos of nothing, really. I’m currently in the midst of a massive summer purge in which I’m to get rid of clothes, art supplies and crap that is no longer needed; and I’ve stumbled upon two containers of old notes from friends and young loves. Oh my.

Paper, in one of its more beautiful metaphors, has memory. Once the fibers are creased, the sheet is forever changed; its physical composition altered by a hand or a mistake. When uncreased again, you can see evidence of touch, of how the thing was previously handled. This is why the examination of old documents is so appealing, so telling. My notes are, of course, creased and folded into complex constructions in order to maintain the integrity of their secret contents. At 12 and 13, I remember the anxiety of the folding. Was I folding the note properly or did it reveal my ignorant unpopularity? Have no fear, future humans, there is a Wiki-page for such anxieties.

Handwritten notes are highly recommended in sales and business transactions, and there’s even a TED Talk encouraging everyone to write letters to people. There’s something so human in the intimacy of a note passed, particularly in today’s world where everything, it seems, is stored digitally. A note, on the other hand, stands out. It happens once only and can never be duplicated exactly. It takes more time. There might even be postage. (Imagine every email costing you $0.44.)

In considering the notes, I wonder what is or will be lost to younger generations, who text rather than form sentences and email rather than fold hand-written letters. What if my little brother never receives a note from a girl (or boy) with lyrics copied from a song, detailing the depths of her love? What if my little sister has no record of how disgusting her first kiss was? Or a boy asking if they’ll be alone soon? Or a record of the shows watched as he wrote her notes?! (Third Rock from the Sun, King of the Hill.)

As I write this, I realize that the essays I make are a kind of extended note to the world. Evidence of the human hand is critical, mistakes are necessary to the message, the turning of the page is considered. Same with artists’ books. These things are all a way for humans to engage with one another, to suggest – like the MJ song – we are not alone. To tell ourselves and others that everything will be ok.

Birds on a Shirt

A few months ago, I made a shirt for an organization in Puerto Peñasco, Sonora, Mexico involving a design and illustration of some brown pelicans, one of my favorite creatures. The other day, I received one of the shirts and thought I’d share the results here. The printing is beautifully crafted (by Graphique) and the fabric is high-quality (Alternative Earth). Without further ado:

Process: After conducting some light research on pelecanus occidentalis (science!) and discussing desired results with my wonderful client, I sketched some fairly straight-forward creatures. There ensued a round of revisions. The final sketches were then Sumi-inked, scanned, transformed into vectors (which I think is always a little sad) and handed over to the screenprinters. We decided on a cream color along with black, and the two typefaces are H & FJ’s Archer (overused, though delicate and determined) and Emigre’s Base Twelve.

To the D-Bag that Hacked My Email

Yesterday, I was hacked. Well, not me, but my Gmail account. At 7:30 in the morning, I received a text from my friend asking me to call her. She was concerned because she received an email saying I’d been robbed in England and needed money wired. Actually, here’s the exact phrasing (italics mine), which I didn’t see until hours later:

I freaked out. I wasn’t near a computer with which I could access my account and when my brothers tried, they found the password changed as well as the backup email address. Then I realized that my Gmail account is attached to other things, too: my bank account, shared calendars, website traffic information, subscriber information. I freaked out more.

This happens frequently. So Google has a page to help you and a specific form for when the entire account has been compromised. Thankfully, Gmail resolved the issue within an hour of sending my form to them and I am now, apparently, hacker-free. Sorry friends, family and ex-lovers for the inconvenience.

Throughout the day, I received calls from administrators in both the School of Art and English Department, my ex-stepmother, some friends in the department (one concerned, others to make fun of the grammar of the email), and a few text messages from people who I assume are friends, but since this is my fourth phone of the year, I’ve lost nearly all of my numbers. All of this was endearing. Touching, even.

It turns out this is an old trick. In March, Edward Mendelson wrote a much more interesting report of a stolen Gmail account with a similar story. And a week or so later, PC Mag discussed the scam, noting that Gmail had added additional security features to warn you if your account has been accessed from another country. I was on Gmail at 11:30pm; eight hours later, the hack. When I did get back into the system, I still had to close my bank account because of the security breach (a CIA-sounding term). Also, all of my contacts had been erased and there were no new emails. A setting had been changed to forward new emails to another account and the originals deleted. You sly bastard.

The most offensive component of the scam, I hope we can agree, is the abominable use of grammar. Were I kidnapped abroad and my life in danger, my sentence structure would maintain its integrity. I’m in a writing program, after all. Nor would I use capitalization and spacing so carelessly. Next, while I find English phrasing charming (ie. lodged), I wouldn’t suddenly use it like Madonna. Lastly, let’s talk about the gun. Guns are illegal in England, which isn’t to say they don’t exist but the likelihood of me getting robbed at gun-point (and then finding a public internet cafe to write to my friends) is highly unlikely. Perhaps another country would be more believable.

It seems a lot of email accounts and blogs are being hacked these days. Here are a few things I’ll do differently from now on.

• Create a Strong Password. Use uppercase and lowercase letters as well as numbers. Also, make up a phrase that you know well, but can’t be linked to you (as in your name or birthday).
• Diversify. Use different passwords for different accounts. While annoying, this prevents a situation in which all of your accounts are accessible to criminals.
• Use a Secure Internet Connection. My dad has repeatedly warned me about internet security, and I’ve uniformly ignored him. Paranoid is the word I’ve used. Alas, he’s right. For the past few weeks, I’ve been using public internet connections to check my email and Twitter in various locations. No more!
• Logout of Your Accounts. When closing up your email or any site that you log into, make sure to logout as well, to lessen the time in which your information is accessible.
• If you receive a spam email, contact your friend. If you’re on the receiving end of a spam email, call or email your friend. It’s polite and makes her feel especially wanted. Also, you might be lucky enough to talk to the hacker, as Mendelson did and find out more. It’s unlikely the person will be caught, but you might be able to collect some valuable insight.

Anyway, my account, it seems so far, has been recovered. All open emails have been deleted, which is kind of relieving in a way. I’d wish bad things to the hacker but I imagine him to live in a shed in a depleted place, which is enough.

Pushing the I (as in, Me)

Memoir is a genre (of writing, of art, of anything) dating back to, well, probably forever, but at least the fourth century, CE, from which time we have St. Augustine’s Confessions (on my summer reading list). Which is to say the literary form has been written and written again for, say, 1,600+ years. That’s a long time. And I’d like to see something new happen.

Throughout the years, authors have experimented with the form of memoir and autobiography presenting us with gems ranging from scientific prose; to pretty but perhaps obscure; to minimalist; to mixed media poetry/prose/screenplay/lists; to personal meditations on Dungeons & Dragons; to graphic memoirs. Enter now.

Now is an interesting time for writing because, it seems, the world is open to something new. Something different. Something that challenges our notions of what writing is and what it might be. There are even a few literary journals pushing this idea, that writing can present itself in ways unknown. Memoir (and) is one such journal, requesting calls for submissions for poetry, prose, photography and graphic essays, all under the banner of memoir. I imagine they’re interested in other forms too; they just don’t have names for them yet.

Their current issue was recently released and I just got my copy last week. And one of my essays is in it! The editors called a few months ago to discuss formatting and logistics, so I knew it was coming. But still. This is the first essay from my MFA manuscript to be published so I’m extra excited. That they print in two color: triple excitement.

Let’s talk about form (art word for the way a thing looks). There are a few or perhaps several graphic memoirs in existence and have been since the 1960s (does anyone know about earlier texts?). They’ve evolved in format over time, with panels developing to denote time/space and word bubbles. For my work, though, I want to authentically represent the fallacy of memory and of documentation. A book is not simply arrived at in perfect form, in a neatly edited package. There are spills of ink, deletions, frustrations, familial tensions and general wanderings throughout the process; all of which I want to include in the essays. (Not everything, I’m told politely.) The trick, I suppose, is to not put the reader to sleep.

I read the journal, cover to cover, and am excited for the genre of memoir, for form-pushing, for the now. So check out what the lovely folks over at Memoir (and) are doing. You can read the entire journal online or buy a printed copy ($12). Or if you want an artist book version, go here.

Paola Antonelli & this Moment in Design

Last Friday morning, I gathered with about 90 interested folks at the Celeste Bartos Theatre in New York to hear a talk by MoMA’s Senior Curator of Architecture and Design, Paola Antonelli. This was the latest Creative Morning, a concept/event developed by the energetic Tina Roth Eisenberg. You might know her as Swiss Miss.

Street Cred

Paola is totally prolific as a thinker of design and participant in its critical discourse. She has given two TED Talks, written articles for several design/culture magazines (one of my favorites is here) and curated exhibitions at MoMA that expand our cultural understanding of what design is and what it might be. Perhaps her most renowned show was Design and the Elastic Mind, which brought together science, technology and design; for this event, she collaborated with editors of the excellent Seed magazine. She also has a lovely Italian accent.

Notes from the Talk

Throughout the talk, Paola offered a few really fascinating and eloquently posed insights worth sharing here. My commentary (based on or mixed with Paola’s thoughts) is underneath the bold.

• This is a great moment for design.
• Paola moved to NYC in 1994, a time when the word design meant either objects or architecture. And those worlds did not collide. Now, design is or can be about communication through the logical platform for a message. For a company, design might be a printed media kit; for a park, it might be environmental signage; for a city, it might be the organization of a subway system to move millions of citizens across town; for you, it might be a website. Design is everywhere and includes everyone. That’s what’s so beautiful about it. Right now, design refers to a transdisciplinary approach to ideas based on the integration of forms because of overarching common states, such as our global need for sustainable living.
• Design + Information = …
• Another way of thinking about this concept is: design reportage, a lovely term Paola noted in her talk. I’m drawn to this idea because it relates also to writing (or perhaps any medium/s) where creative experimentation mixes with direct reportage (a classic example being Capote’s In Cold Blood, and a more contemporary example being DFW’s Consider the Lobster). Infographics seem to be one intersecting point for these three mediums: reportage, writing, design. (Have you noticed the surge in them lately? Everyone from 826 National to FastCompany to is using them in some capacity.) Anyway, infographics can be potent communicators of current events. Take Laura Kurgan’s Million Dollar Blocks project, in which she delineates certain blocks across the country where millions of dollars are spent incarcerating residents. In Kurgan’s example, design is used to visualize an important trend in a city’s spending and suggest where our public policies are failing.
  
• Engagement/participation is critical.
• Through design, we can produce scenarios that promote dialogue, rather than products. Last year, I had a show (video here) in which I drew all of my thoughts on a wall over the course of a week. It was a visual essay/performance type of thing and I left spaces on the walls for visitors to write in their own ideas. A bowl of Crayola markers was left out. And visitors participated! At the opening, several people came up to me to discuss their thoughts while experiencing the show. It was this beautiful kind of engagement where I wanted the show to be completed through audience participation. So, when Paola spoke about leaving exhibitions slightly unfinished in order for the audience to complete them conceptually, I was delighted. She says you need to trust your public to engage with ideas, spread them and contribute to them.
• Disruptive innovation demands everyone’s participation.
• One audience member asked about an article stating that scientists and technologists are innovators, while the role of designers is to physically present those innovations. Innovation, Paola responded, is more complex than a lightbulb and therefore demands the participation of everyone. Bringing this concept to her forthcoming exhibition at MoMA, Talk to Me, Paola has created a blog in which anyone can suggest ideas to be included in the show. Innovation is a process, is experimental and can be inclusive.

On Creative Mornings

Swiss Miss has designed an interesting and refreshing opportunity here, where interested minds come together for a short while to mingle, eat and collectively think not just about design, but its application within the world. Tickets for Creative Mornings sell out in about 30-40 minutes, by my calculations, and if you can’t make it to the physical locale, Swiss Miss posts videos online (to be posted soon). This is another example of how ideas and information are increasingly accessible for free through the internet. Because of corporate sponsorship, the talks are free to anyone who signs up. Accessible, stimulating and participatory. Kudos to this forward-thinking conversation and event.

(There’s a write-up over at Soulellis Studio, too!)

Thoughts for the Week

Some Things Arrived

This isn’t a thought so much as a thing that happened, I suppose…but I was really excited this week to receive a shipment of books. As you know, I’m in grad school. And as such, it’s a long road with a lot to do. To help create milestones for myself (something every ongoing project should have), I began printing each chapter of my manuscript as individual artist’s books. Of course, the chapters might be revised later on, but in the mean time I get to hold something in my hands, look at, experience and share. The count: two down, eight (ten? more?) to go.

In Books: a Refreshing Blast

Four years ago, I spent a summer in the Catskills. It was beautiful in the ways you might expect: green, warm, rain, mountains, black bears, bookbinders, art studios and good friends. While there, I happened upon a book (which I ended up stealing…but it was raggedy so really I was doing the organization a favor). The book began, If this typewriter can’t do it, then fuck it, it can’t be done. For four years I’ve been thinking about those words and wondering about the book that I didn’t even read. Then last Sunday, I heard Tom Robbins on NPR’s Wait Wait and I figured it was a sign (you know when you need the universe to point out your next book to you?). The book I, um, borrowed is Still Life with Woodpecker, written in 1980. I have this thing where I feel like I need to be on top of the latest nonfiction books, the latest writings in design and the latest exhibitions, which must be some sort of reflection of the time/space in which we live. And it’s absurd particularly because this book pushes form in really interesting ways (novel meets meta-nonfiction meets poetry). Here are a few especially delicious fragments:

My mouth waters just typing those words. Anyway, the back cover says of the book, “It also deals with the problem of redheads,” which is particularly hilarious, and one chapter even includes a list of the world’s most famous redheads, including Mark Twain. Needless to say, I’m enjoying the movements of the book and am reminded that the latest thing is not always the best thing; is not always the thing that is needed.

Your Blog is Not Your Resume (and 7 Other Tips)

For the past year, I’ve been practically begging my students to start their own websites, with emphasis on starting blogs. It’s a marketing tool, I’ve told them. A way to show people who you are and impress them with your mad skills. It occurred to me this week, though, that I’m wrong. That’s not why I started my website and not what I look for in blogs. Apologies, dear students, but your websites should not exist in order to get you a job; they should go way beyond that. A job – a connection with others – might be a byproduct of your site, but should not be the motivation behind the thing. Websites should surprise us and add value to some cultural dialogue, open up corners of the world we didn’t know existed and in general do something remarkable. At least, that should be the attempt, I think. So, to help get around the idea a blog=resume, here are seven things your blog should do.

1. Manage Your Ideas

Every human has a unique set of ideas, experiences and values. This is what makes us different (and the same). In his book, Linchpin, Seth Godin notes that his most valuable employees are the ones whose roles he can’t quite articulate. They bring something to the table that he can’t-that no one else can-and add value in unique ways, based on their experiences and knowledge. One way you earn respect and influence in an industry or genre or company is through communicating your ideas in some sort of organized forum (a book, a portfolio, a website, a meeting, a conversation). In grad school, I read a ton of books, explore various design and literary theories, visit museums and galleries, form opinions, teach, draw, think. Et cetera. I needed a space to organize all of the incoming information and to make it valuable in some way. Hence, this website. While my site will continue to evolve and change with my circumstances and perspective, it also documents my thinking through time and, one hopes, engages an interested audience.

2. Develop Goals

The beginning of any project is often inward and intuitive. As you become comfortable with the medium and the form of what you’re trying to communicate, you begin to look around and see what others are doing. As you become an expert, you form opinions about what works and doesn’t, and hone your craft accordingly. This is true of blogs, too. For instance, my site (why not). Several years ago, I purchased my domain name because I knew I wanted an online portfolio. Once I finally went through four iterations of that, I decided a blog would help organize ideas more cohesively and more comprehensively. Now that I am exploring the blogging community, I can see what I want – and don’t want – for this site and for my work (career). These things range greatly from functionalities to portfolio presentation, choices about subject matter, research methods, jobs, freelancing and more. The point: through integration into a [blogging, creative] community, we are able to better understand how we can use our capabilities as thinkers.

3. Demonstrate Passion

You cannot fake passion. You just can’t. Your website is a space for you to explore, explain and show your passions. What wakes you up in the morning? Keeps you up at night? What is the thing you do that feels like the essence of why you’re alive? In the book Making Ideas Happen, Scott Belsky (creator of Behance) discusses authenticity and the importance of Initiators. Initiators are humans who actually execute projects. A blog is a project executed and through the authentic presentation of your passions, others will be drawn to your ideas, to you. If it’s not already ridiculously clear what I’m passionate about: the smell of ink, the way metal lays ink on smooth vellum, sewing thread through paper, the following of a thought until it reaches the edge of the mind, talking about ideas, making ideas, making. Passions should be the point of departure for what you talk about on your website.

4. Craft Your Capacity to Communicate

Language, visual and verbal, is a critical means of development for anyone’s work. As projects begin intuitively, the reasons for them are not always clear. Nor are the words to explain the why, the what, the how. When we put words to our ideas, we immediately expand them and place them in reality. (In Proust and the Squid, Maryanne Wolf talks about the way reading (and writing) changes the circuitry of the brain.) Through language, we find an audience, a platform and a voice. And we develop all of these things over time and practice. The best blogs are those with interesting, surprising, relevant content, which is communicated to us (I would argue) through writing. By attaching language to your concepts and practicing the way you present ideas to others, you internalize the dialogue and consequently speak more clearly (and more authentically) in various arenas.

5. Practice Your Mad Skills, Yo

The function of a blog inherently necessitates a skill set, dependent upon your goals and your readers, probably. Once more, to the example of my site. Here, I want to practice my writing in a disciplined way, so writing is one thing. I also freaking love to code, so any chance I get to edit some HTML/CSS, I’m all over it. There’s also a portfolio that needs to be well-crafted. I teach, too, so practice (preach?) what I learn from that here. And all of this is within the umbrella of design, which I’ll have a degree in soon, if all goes according to plan, so this is a space for me to test layouts/type combinations/palettes too. Basically, we are many things. A blog is a space to practice the crafts or skills related to your passions and develop a work ethic surrounding their development.

6. Convert Nonbelievers

Every week, I write articles for my site with five people in mind. First, my friend who has worked in the internet industry for over a decade (impressive!) and has limited interest in the world of design and illustration. Next, two of my brothers and my dad (think: insurance, sales, corporations). Lastly, my advisor-human, who I just want to impress (he sets a high bar). While a diverse and creative group, I’m still a kind of odd creature to them, drawing pictures with words and talking about it. It’s kind of like tapping on a fish tank, where both species stare at each other, wide-eyed. The point is that this group has no inherent interest in the things I’m passionate about (exempting my advisor, who is incredibly busy anyway), which means I have to diversify the way I speak in order to make my topics relevant to them. This is important to practice in virtually all of our endeavors, as Scott Belsky discusses in his book, because it allows you to reach a broader audience, thereby spreading your ideas further. I try, then, to connect my subject matter to some larger context, be it culture/trends, career-ish things, concepts for emerging creatives, or the Gulf Coast disaster. So: pretend no one cares about what you have to say, and your job is to convince them that your ideas are worth their investment of time.

Note, my dad still hasn’t subscribed to my blog but he did visit it at least twice last week. So what if I had to ask him.

7. Connect with Others

One of the lovely things about the internet is its capacity to reach others on a global scale. Through this kind of connection, you gain exposure to new ideas, to new ways of thinking and to a large, international network of brains. On top of all the pragmatic reasons for a community (building a business, e.g.), a community (a tribe, followers, fans…whatever you call it) is necessary to foster the evolution of your own thinking. A blog is like a critique, in this way. When my students show their work to each other, our small community works together to improve the concepts behind and within the work. The critique functions because we all believe in the capacity of the work to do something (incite change, give pleasure, communicate a message) and for this reason, the work and the critique are important. Same with blogs. Your community critiques and improves your ideas, and adds to them in some way. As others become excited about your ideas, you become increasingly enthusiastic too. (I can vouch for this. When I got a comment from someone other than my little brother, I felt exceptionally cool.)

Wrapping Things Up

A website, a blog, should not be approached as a means to an end because it will die that way. Instead, your blog is platform for communication, like a hive or a party. (Ooh, a party!) It’s a place where people come to hear/see/read good content and then engage with you, the accessible author. To look at it as a resume or a thing to get you a job is to limit it and to fail to do justice to the development of your ideas. I therefore beg of you: use your website as a space to grow your thinking.