A quick Thank You to Webmaster Chris for providing last week's blog. To be honest, last Monday rolled around and blog deadline time was eroding, so I emailed Chris and said: "I got nothin'! It's your baby, and it's wet." He came through with flying colors (blue and silver, to be specific).

   Question from Tim K, life long Captain America fan:

   Where will you be posting your inked pages of Captain America? Will you be doing the chain mail in the"NEW STYLE"? The chain mail really makes or breaks the look.

   I've actually been looking at the classic John Byrne/Joe Rubenstein Cap run lately, so I'm going for classic. I think the new style is pretty cool too, (the stacked chlorine tablet look), but it's not for me. There's also the old "Aquaman scales" look, but Scot Eaton's been employing a lot more shadows these days, so the dark, beaded look seems to be the right approach..

   You'll see inked pages here in a week or two,then some more at http://www.comicon.com/pulse/ eventually, where Jen Contino will have another interview with me in the near-future. I'll provide the link again when the interview is posted.

   Well, I was all primed to sit down, adult beverage in hand, and watch the season finale of The Sopranos, only to find out that they're skipping a week! In it's place was an HBO movie that looked promising, but I was strictly in the mood for The Sopranos, and I know the movie will be played again and again. So I grumbled my way back to the drawing table to work, which is the default setting for most at-home freelancers.

   I've touched on this before, the blessing and curse of working at home. Much as I miss the buzzing of a studio environment, I enjoy the solitude of working at home. When I worked at an office of a certain comic book company, I used to eat lunch in my car just to have some private time, a dip in Lake Me, if you will. Ugh. Scratch that thought. That sounds like a yogurt commercial on the Lifetime network.

   Anyway, eating lunch in the car was my only solitude on days when noisy office activity would make for raw nerves (I've probably contributed to more than my share of said noise).

   I've recently gotten better at balancing my personal and professional life (although the professional part is still dominant). Years ago, when my wife would mention social plans a month in advance, I'd never commit until the last minute, if at all. I'd give the standard "We'll see...". Now, I usually say yes without hesitancy, because it's a healthier mindset.

   Deadlines can be social speedbumps, but for me they used to be a "road closed" sign. Planning your deadlines around important events, like weddings, is essential, but it can be carried to an extreme.

   This past weekend, my wife drove to Georgia for her nephew's high-school graduation and took Gromit the cuddly psycho dog with her. So I got to do the bachelor thing, which usually consists of eating bad food while wearing only shorts. The dark workaholic subconscious side of me thinks: "Now I can get even MORE work done! She should take more trips!" But the reality is that it becomes a lonely vigil, working even odder hours than normal and feeling incomplete without my wife's company.

   Burying yourself in work creates a safe zone. It's the only time that one can feel in control of their private universe. I may screw up anything else, but when I'm behind the command chair, inking, I actually delude myself into believing I have something substantial to contribute to 'the world'. Although, in my heart, I know 'the world' is merely a microcosm of my favorite art form, comics. I'm in a box, cutting a hole so I can grow into a slightly larger box known as the comics industry. Now, when I say I'm contributing to the world', I understand how ridiculous that sounds. My Cousin Fran is a retired cop in Pittsburgh who now councils troubled teens. Now HE's the real deal when it comes to contributing to the world. I understand my place is strictly on an entertainment level. Even in this blog, I attempt to serve some purpose, if only to keep your mind off of the 24-hour news cycle of misery for a short while.