When it comes to any form of success, no amount of brilliance can offset the downsides of social isolation, just as no amount of idiocy or incompetence can harm the popular.
A steady day of work. Before 12:30 I completed the Flatspace Music Pack, set up the store, compiled the tracks and tested them in game, uploaded the artwork and descriptions. After that, I cut the velvet cloth for the keyboard stand drape. It is, I predict, 50mm or so too long because I forgot to account for the gap between the keyboard stand's top and the location of the curtain rod. My mother is adamant that there's no need to re-cut, though it's not difficult. I'm resigned to fate regarding correcting it. My life experience is having no control over anything. Perhaps this is why fate and determinism is my obsession.
The curtain might never be used anyway, and is only a small part of our performances which number one or two per year, usually unpaid and to minuscule audiences; brilliant though we think our performances are. Who would be there to comment on the beauty and perfection of the violet velvet curtain? We must try our best, stoic and careful, each a tiny bit better than before. What more can we do but our best?
A life of performing is hardly satisfying; a life gone in the poof that is human memory. Even so few as one per month would soon drive me mad. Some aritsts like the applause of an audience of strangers but it means nothing to me at all, my only goal is self-improvement.
The day has flown, and on the 10th I've nearly completed all of my monthly goals. I must manifest new ones. Every day my feelings weep and I battle to soothe and reassure them. Making any sort of progress as a human is about the conquest of feelings. We are social in ourselves because we are a collective of cells. When we are alone, we are not alone.
