Sometimes I just don’t know what the hell I want to draw. I look around the room, I leaf through magazines and books, I look at old stuff I’ve done. If I’m feeling truly desperate I might even start copying something out of a comic book. But sometimes, no matter what I try I just can’t seem to get started. At those moments, seeping in at the edges, comes the thought, “What am I doing?!” And then, inevitably, the dreaded, “Why even bother?” And then my mind starts to wander, and I start thinking I should walk out that door right now and just go and get a job and do something with my life, make something out of myself, get married, raise a family, become a respected member of the community. I feel like saying out loud to myself, “Go on, just do it! No one’s stopping you. Just walk out that door right now and change your life!” It’s terrifying. The feeling that my life hangs in the balance. The thought that a decision made in an instant can alter the entire course of my life. A decision that at its core, in its essence, is no different from the decision of where to place a line in a drawing, yet instead of rendering the composition of a drawing it renders the compostion of my whole life. It’s at this point that I always start to wonder, “Could it really be true? That one decision could make that much difference, is it possible? Can our destiny truly be that completely in our own hands?” And you know, I can’t ever bring myself to believe it and so I don’t believe it and so I pick up my pencil and start to draw.