Myself: "I figure, if I am going to make something I want to show to the world, first I need to make sure I can like it. If I cannot even do that, then I have made nothing worth showing." Taking a *hint hint* from a magazine, I set up this account. Not sure where things will go from here, but as a point to start, it's as best as any. A book in progress, I find myself bound by my own strict protocols of writing. Does it sound good? Does it only sound good because I think it does, or is it authentically good? One of such many questions I hammer myself with constantly. It should all pan out though, all it takes is time and determination. Bound to forever try harder than I put forth, I've forged myself to be a jack-of-all-trades, master of some. Computers, writing, drawing and design, psychology, I have a hand for each, far more advanced than commonplace, yet not quite perfection, not in my mind. The volume of information is innumerable and immeasurable, and knowing I have only a little simply shall never suffice. Being a perfectionist is tough on the mind, all I crave is to become better, stronger, to never stop striving to overcome what I feel are nothing but roadblocks I myself create, preventing my advancement. But, only nineteen, there is still plenty of time.