You know, I was never the "typical" teenager; I wasn't moody, I wasn't partying all night, I didn't do any of the things teens are supposed to do. Sometimes I'd try though, I'd roll my eyes at my parents, I'd buy posters and CD's and once, just once, I skipped class with a friend to go and watch a tennis game. But all in all I didn't really mind my parents and the posters were relegated to the back of the always open bedroom door, and some of those CD's were never even opened - I've always preferred to get my music through TV or radio, that way I'm force-fed styles and artists I wouldn't have bothered with otherwise.
And I never had a journal. Well, I did, I was given one once, but never knew what to write, I filled it up with boring accounts of my daily life. You know, homework and the weather and acne. If I had an issue (mostly with my sister), I was more the type to yell and slam doors than sit down and write it out.
This blog was never meant to be a personal venting space, it was an effort to push myself to do art regularly and maybe even, eventually, as a side effect, become less asocial.
Then Illustration Friday came along and my blogging really took off, and then of course I started my Etsy shop. I've had such fun on this blog and on those of all the people I've met because of it.
Now, this blog has always been personal, I've told you all sorts of little tidbits from my life, although I've tried to keep the bad parts to a minimum - because in reality, my life is pretty much perfect and any problems I have, are silly little things that are quickly forgotten. But lately, it's been less about my drawing, and more about my artistic woes, my wonderings and theories on my shortcomings as an artist; I've actually started to treat this blog as a personal, very egocentric journal. Maybe I'll get back to drawing one day, one day when Instagram is over ;)
But there is this one issue. The cats. Well, the cats never do anything, as always it's the humans. Most of you know I have cats of my own as well as those I take care of on the streets. And the street cats are causing me such heart ache, I sometimes (too often) think I don't want to care anymore.
Honestly, I don't know how veterinarians and medical staff and humanitarian organisations manage an entire career of this stuff; I've been doing this for ten years and it's keeping me in a slight depression most of the time. The confrontations don't happen every day (guess what, today was such a day) but just knowing that there are people out there hating the cats and hating me (people I know, people I see every day), is too much sometimes. So much, so often, that I've actually decided to move back to Sweden. Not because Swedish people are such animal lovers - most of the people I have issues with here are Swedish - but because the situation is more manageable. Which of course has me feeling all sort of guilty for abandoning my colonies; I'm sterilising as many as I can and I know others are doing too; I'm starting to look for people to take over the colonies when I leave - most of the cats do get fed by others apart from me but it's not quite the same as actually taking care of them. And so I worry, and I fill my days with planning and thinking and worrying and drawing cute stuff to post on Instagram. And wishing the world, for all its wonders, were a better place.
I leave you with Kamilla (and Loki in the back), sleeping oh so soundly. :)