May '22 Update

Though the past few weeks've been, somewhat, productive, and a few new developments've slightly rekindled my passion, I've struggled since TEOS's first draft finale...a few new stories were started, an opportunity I long craved, but, now, I simply wish to advance beyond the 'initial' stage of my career, and reap dedication's modest reward, sown over the past four, committed years; my contemporaries, most, stagnant in skill, have excelled in all other aspects, yet, once again, I feel I've fallen behind: without an ideal education, without a substantial audience, without financial independence...my envy, I've tried to suppress, for if I've not my desires, a substantial component, I overlooked...perhaps, I was too reserved: I've silently worked, my progress, kept secret...now, I need to claim what may've been had, if I'd simply the confidence to genuinely pursue Soic, my interests, from the start...

Afore, I'd oft convince myself to focus on side-ventures to find alternative solutions to monetary troubles, however, they quickly became an excuse to avoid my ambitions; when Soic became my sole priority, I realized the disservice...I prided my conviction, my will to fervently pursue my passions, yet, they were constantly shrouded in an attempt to hastily acquire what I thought was necessary to succeed, to what, I thought, were others' expectations...I should've been more authentic...it took years to finally unveil my true aspirations to those who appreciate my work in its sincerity...how I wish I was wiser much sooner.

Soic's, currently, far from perfect, but, t'will no longer be suffocated: I won't wait 'til I produce exceptional works, nor cower in shame of my mistakes or inabilities; instead, they'll be acknowledged, and shared; when all's said, and all's done, I say, let all trace Soic's to modest roots: may they see how far we've come.

For the past two years, I've self-studied music theory to compose scores to either serve as other stories' support or autonomous works; I admit, t'was meticulous, I was, atimes, baffled: how could these seemingly disparate concepts grant compositional insight? Yet, with faith, I endured, 'til, one day, I realized what was instilled: proficient music expression's now well within my grasp.

My first compositions may be far from masterful, but I won't horde my experimentations in fear of disdain: I know I've ample room for improvement, but, can't assume all prospective supporters immediately expect perfection; perhaps, they simply wish to witness great potential's manifestation, then celebrate Soic's eventual prosperity.

Soon, I'll release a short composition, a sample, though, to create pieces like those heard in epic trailers or entertainment, I must invest in new equipment and licensed software to emulate pure, authentic, orchestral sounds; however, I'll not wait for that day, instead, I'll present my best efforts with current resources, pushed to their absolute limit; once finer, musical luxuries're affordable, Soic's quality'll proportionally increase.

I, unfortunately, haven't the time to produce music consistently, nor'll entirely neglect the academic studies which've enabled my newly awoken abilities: I'll share what I have, when I have it, be it piano sketches, simple melodies, or complete ensembles I deemed adequate, join by my thoughts and criticisms.

Soic's standards haven't lowered; I still strive to create well-executed, technically ideal works regardless of discipline, or medium, but must acknowledge my skills're far from what I wish...will I, once again, wait indefinitely for a fateful day, or will I demonstrate now to place myself in positions to gradually flourish. T'is bizarre I entertained the former, much less, enacted it...

Fear of failure has poisoned every aspect of my work: fear of rejection, of scorn, of mockery; Soic's, by no means, a conventional studio, nor are my intentions...I thought, to validate them, I must be extraordinary the moment my work's shared under this name, 'specially, for my artistic endeavors...

For those who've seen my development over the years, the many phases I've entered, and left, t'is clear my art wasn't initially great, but, I'd still argue, t'was, at least, decent: decent enough to share, to attract the few who realized my potential, and supported my aspirations among sev'ral, superior artists...I'm better than I was, I know what type of artist I'll be, and how to become it...I'm also aware of my numerous, technical weaknesses, but, when I reflect on all I've done, all I can do, how can one objectively argue current works aren't, at least, enough to share, enough for those who may appreciate the process or quest for mastery, not merely the final product?

...Sometimes, my efforts meet not expectations, but should they be hidden from all others, without an opportunity to hear their critiques, praise, or opinions? All my life, I've marveled at those with skills I lack...back then, primarily in sports, it seemed there was no time to learn, no time to grow: none wanted to teach those presumed unfit; to me, they seldom spoke, even when I sought direction: instead, I was taught to believe I must be great to be accepted, I must have what others admire afore any pursuit...as a child, I thought they were right...I wasn't good enough, I worked tirelessly to prove I could be...yet, I suppose I never did...

There was no process: one either was, or wasn't, the path atween was kept vague, or rarely shared...I was told to be what I wasn't inherently, yet never shown how...as an 'adult', recently, of twenty-two, I realize my interpretation, their approach, was far from correct; success, mastery, is a gradual process: it demands time, it demands commitment, patience, humility, guidance. No longer I'll believe the intermittent phases are entirely irrelevant and should be unseen...mistakes, weaknesses aren't worthy of shame, persecution, or ridicule if one actively seeks correction: they're steps to greater feats...some of the greatest stories ever told are of triumph from humbles origins; if one values not the journey itself, they're unworthy of reverence.

This isn't instantaneous, I won't be a master tomorrow...but these moments are vital, this moment's more than what the world suggests; akin to me, many weren't told what they could be, how to improve, even now most live in false dichotomies of who is, who isn't...many feel they're utterly incapable, so discouraged, they won’t even to try, perhaps to preserve their reputations, perhaps, in fear of the judgment which forced me to isolation...if they aren't great, they never will, or could be...what a vile plague many endure...t'is tragic to watch, tragic to hear...'I could never.'...'I can't'...'I've not the talent, the time, the money'...how I wish, they knew their potential, how I wish they dared to dream...every master was once mediocre, true greatness's found by those who persist, or perish in its pursuit...

'No, Jaivin, wait 'til we're better, wait 'til we can do what others can...', ironically, I suppose I should be grateful: such notions steered me to artistic academia, which never should've been hidden; I shudder at thoughts of a life ignorant of these teachings, and institutes...to believe art's an abstract endeavor, without definitive principle...how unfortunate, many do.

'Just do art', 'just draw', 'practice anatomy', hollow advice: it convinces young artists to pursue styles born of ignorance, rather than foundational comprehension; they drift in ambiguity, in search of some secret technique, or brush...some foolishly attend universities, delve into debt, yet remain incompetent...they're either fortunate enough to find mastery's clandestine trail in time, or never at all, yet some may succeed, regardless, to become professional hobbyist and use it to validate their ineptitudes...not all, but most...in truth, their ideology isn't without value: the best among them draw with and paint with passion, naïve freedom, and boldly share their works; they, unlike most academic artists, are too unaware not to...t'is a gruesome game: some rise, some fall, yet neither know why...

Academic artists suffer from the contrary; they practice and study from the best in history, yet, become slaves to skillful duplication; they capture reality, at varied degrees, but rely on what's seen: they need a physical subject since most can't invent...they've no vision beyond the model, they simply rehearse procedures in generalized scenarios, but seldom apply them beyond...most aren't storytellers, they're draftsmen, painters...naught more, certainly not less...though, I wonder if they truly believe their names'll be etched among artistic legends for derivative works, or if they know, to obscurity, they'll be lost?

No one school, nor person, 'aside future myself, embodies my ideal; they each have their flaws, we each have our differences, but they seem comfortable with fractional knowledge, though, admittedly, not every artist requires more: their interests may lie in what they can see, in representation, others, simply in what they want without restriction; with both, I disagree, but understand...what, then, of their divide? The place atween for those who cherish traditional canons, yet're more imaginative, expressive, or unorthodox? Why does the duality exist when, if culminated, the extreme's combined strengths yield more impressive results? Why don't many ask?...Perhaps, I've not asked enough...

The more I study, the better I become, the more I realize I've an adamant opinion on the artistic world's affairs, the narrative, and musical too; this isn't how it should be, but, with so few of my diverse skill set, ambitions, I must be my advocate...and inspire kindred minds.

Always, I'll long for perfection, for Truth despite where it lies, so I'll explore what less classical mediums offer: I'll re-enter the digital arena I left in ignorance with new-found insight to the realize its potential concurrently with traditional practices, rather than wait to 'complete' my academic studies; the process'll be shared, my digital works, placed 'longside the others.

In honesty, I'm fearful the skills I've garnered won't translate well to the emulated medium; perhaps, I've trained my limitations, but, no longer I'll conceal the struggles or failures; whatever comes, I'll present it, and, from my mistakes, learn.

T'is odd, a times, to step forward, one steps back; writing's no exception; I've attempted, for years, to perfect each story into an undeniable masterpiece, upon which the other disciplines may stand, however, after I completed TEOS' first drift, I've been relatively...uninspired, restricted...now, nearly every written word, satisfies not; I become frustrated, 'why can't my initial thoughts be articulated akin to revisions? T'is simple, oh, self, they'ven't been revised; every sequent version should be preferable to the last.

One should be aware if a notion's ineloquently recorded, however, idealism isn't the first draft's purpose: it serves to develop a general concept, to explore the story's sequential events, disparities, discontinuities, characters, and conceptions, which may've been overlooked or unknown; it forces one to address narrative dilemmas, an exercise of creativity, but'll inevitably require refinement.

My premature, editorial fixations’ve gradually stifled productivity: this writer once boasted of six-thousand-word sessions, types faster than he ever could, yet, has reduced himself to two-thousand, rarely three? The approach's ineffective: it stole the solace it once provided, my joy, it compromises the very stories it seeks to perfect...t'is testament to procedural steps importance, too, conflation's consequences; explore first, refine after, 'lest needless hinder the mind, and its productions...

These last few months were difficult...I've become wary, my will weakened, I've felt frustration, contempt, but occasional fulfillment, or excitement; I'm thankful to you, all those who've supported me, for your patience, your assistance through another arduous trial in Soic's progression: now, I'll continue with greater insight and deeper vigor.

Of change, this year was meant to be, I believe, much will...and soon...