Simple Pleasures.

I write because I like mapping out my thoughts on paper. I never suspect that what I write will make much of a difference to anyone else. Feedback that compliments what I'm saying is always welcome, but the feedback that challenges what I'm saying—so long as it is constructive—is just as welcome, if not more so. Despite any or all feedback, I'm still going to map out my thoughts because it gives me pleasure.

Simple pleasures and a good challenge here-and-there are what keeps me smiling.
Give me some fine tobacco and a good pipe, and I'll be just fine. Admiring the craftsmanship and flavor of the pipe and how it smokes can occupy me until the bowl is done. Distinguishing the flavors of the tobacco as it mists my taste buds often brings forth memories I don't mind reliving. Adding a glass of merlot or a good single-malt scotch to the equation means adding to the pleasure of the experience.

Yet, if you also add a book, the pleasure broadens still. Give me something about ancient Rome or the Third Reich and I'll hang a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my ear.
In fact, give me a Bjarne pipe, some English tobacco, a glass of Glenfiddich, a book about Roman emperors, and a toilet seat and I won't show my face again until my feet are numb or I need a refill; whichever comes first.
Give me time with my "better half" sitting on a park bench, feeding ducks and geese and talking about why eugenics is ideal, or how the Nation can help the economy by building its own Coliseum for gladiatorial games between death row inmates, and having it shown on Pay-Per-View.

A large ball of modeling clay will keep me busy for hours. Typically, I'm the only one capable of seeing what it was I'd constructed, but that's enough for me. I might try to learn new techniques and improve each time, but that only comes second. I wouldn't dare destroy something I love simply because it isn't precise.
Give me pencils, pens, paint, paper, cardboard, magazine clippings, glue, string, tissue paper, doll parts, miniature figurines, and just about anything else I can use to create something new, and whether or not it's actually "art" is irrelevant to me.

I'll take puzzles over television, text books over celebrity magazines, sailing ship models over cell phones, and my cat over my neighbors.
I'll wear my Soviet NBC gas mask and look at books rich with pictures of the Soviet Union during the Cold War.

I have my idols and (anti-)heroes, and I use them for inspiration. Some are fictitious, some are not. Some are dead and some still live. If they're dead and I'm still paying attention to them, they've achieved a status most admirable.
If they're alive, I pay close attention and learn what I can while awaiting their next move.
If they're fictitious, I'll re-read them or watch them over again to relish the personification of what I consider grand idealism.
I remember when there was a What Would Jesus Do? explosion, and just about anywhere you looked was a WWJD tee shirt, key chain, or bumper sticker. For me, it would be What Would Hulk Do, or Wolf (Larsen), or Caesar, or Krupp, or Hearst…

My life is like my modeling clay: I will keep busy molding it into a shape that may not seem like art, but so long as I know what it is and what it's supposed to look like, and I continue to make progress, I'll be happy. I'll continue to apply new techniques and try to become a more apt sculptor, but I certainly won't stop loving it simply because it isn't precise...