arfie
Diamond Member
My graphics studio is in danger of looking like the space I only dreamed of in the 80s and 90s when I actually earned decent money helping small engineering offices make the transition from manual drafting to PC based drafting. The steady stream of youngsters through my home based operation left distinctive decorating and logistical touches.
But this week it still feels more like a hideout for a runaway housewife than a studio. I am letting last week's text tantrum from my 33 year old son get to me. It was his reaction to hearing my apartment called, "A graphics studio." "Lazy, drooling maggot" is among the kinder names out of his text tantrum. I know better than to take it personal. When my son is in one of his episodes, kindness is quite beyond him. Nor am I the only target during his episodes. I honestly hope he never attempts parenthood. So far, so good.
When someone throws salt at you, it only hurts where it hits open wounds. "Lazy, drooling maggot" is the phrase which has been haunting me from his text tantrum. There is nothing new in the general sentiment from him. The names keep changing, but the general sentiment has spewed from him since the onset of his narcolepsy as he approached Jr. High School. It started during the skepticism that my CADD work in my home office during the 80s and 90s was more than video games.
This morning my system is powered up and waiting for the next phase of my poorly defined web design. My guitar has left the case but lies unstrummed on the bed. The shots from my last photo shoot remain unsorted on the camera. Who am I kidding?
But this week it still feels more like a hideout for a runaway housewife than a studio. I am letting last week's text tantrum from my 33 year old son get to me. It was his reaction to hearing my apartment called, "A graphics studio." "Lazy, drooling maggot" is among the kinder names out of his text tantrum. I know better than to take it personal. When my son is in one of his episodes, kindness is quite beyond him. Nor am I the only target during his episodes. I honestly hope he never attempts parenthood. So far, so good.
When someone throws salt at you, it only hurts where it hits open wounds. "Lazy, drooling maggot" is the phrase which has been haunting me from his text tantrum. There is nothing new in the general sentiment from him. The names keep changing, but the general sentiment has spewed from him since the onset of his narcolepsy as he approached Jr. High School. It started during the skepticism that my CADD work in my home office during the 80s and 90s was more than video games.
This morning my system is powered up and waiting for the next phase of my poorly defined web design. My guitar has left the case but lies unstrummed on the bed. The shots from my last photo shoot remain unsorted on the camera. Who am I kidding?